Sweet Child o' Mine
by Kitt SummerIsle
Summary: Prowl takes pity of an abused youngling. He discovers a secret that has far-reaching consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Sweet Child o' Mine  
><strong>Continuity<strong>: G1-ish (early wartime, Cybertron)  
><strong>Character(s)<strong>: Prowl, Starscream, OC (Blackfoot)

**Genre**: family/hurt/comfort

**Rating**: T  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: some mentioning of violence, swearwords

**Summary**: Prowl takes pity of an abused youngling. He discovers a secret that has far-reaching consequences.

**Disclaimer**: the usual. OC is mine, nothing else is.

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet child o' mine<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Meeting<strong>

It was a brief calm between the storms. Megatron seemed to be hesitating, waiting for something, having inside troubles – or planning an insidious maneuver somewhere. But here, among the few mountains of Cybertron it meant that the weapons were silent and the survivors cautiously moved around, picking up the pieces of their broken lives. Few lived here even before the war, as the Copper Mountains were –despite their name – poor in metals and therefore not worthy of mining. Their only items of value here were the pretty crystals, emeralds, rubies, diamonds found in the cracks of the reddish stone – all quite worthless, especially since the war put a stop to carving pretty baubles for decoration or jewellery. Artificial focusing crystals had long replaced their usually impure natural relatives in weapons, like lasers – and with those discoveries even the former crystal hunters left the mountains and their meager villages.

There was only one small base among the peaks, such as they were; any human mountain worth its name would disdain their meager heights. Cybertron is not a topographically entertaining planet, as it never had any tectonic movements to fold up high mountains or create deep canyons; those few that exist became so through other means, like the unique sonic qualities of a region that split the ground to establish the Sonic Canyons. The Autobot base nestled in between two small peaks, guarding the pass that was once a major thoroughfare from Polyhex to Kalis, but losing its importance since the destruction of both towns vorns ago. Since that time the base quietly became one of the more peaceful ones as neither the region nor the pass was contested by the Decepticons.

Prowl consequently wasn't really sure why he was needed to inspect the smallish base and its operations; true, he was only the third tactician in the Autobot army, climbing steadily in the ranks since his joining and as such sometimes he got the less interesting problems. But he couldn't even see any problems here, the region and its base was so lacking any strategical value that no plans existed either to conquer it or to defend; it just quietly existed here, among the rocky peaks that might have looked small for a human mountain, but were still an impassable barrier to the ground based, wheeled Cybertronians. The officers and soldiers stationed here consequently were all of the off-road types to be able to negotiate the ground – and as Prowl found matching in temperaments to their alt modes as well. Morose, terse and close-knit bunch they were, wary of outsiders, even their Autobot comrades apparently, as he observed.

Not that they hindered his evaluation in any way, at least not in a way that he could point at; only a general unhelpfulness and indifference that he wasn't used to from Autobot officers. The Second in Command, a big, dark, red-brown coloured mech called Powerdash was particularly suspicious of the tactician and avoided him whenever he could. His commander, an old, bitterly disappointed soldier, feeling cast aside from active fighting was no better either and between the two of them, Prowl's work progressed far slower than he anticipated. But he hasn't found any untoward secrets or illegal actions in the base, so he decided to put up with their distrust and get back to Iacon as fast as he finished with the investigation.

Working mainly with the officers and quartered in their part of the base, he rarely saw any of the soldiers stationed there, only as numbers in the statistics; as usual, the tactician never visited the common areas of any place only for refueling. But it was there that he first saw the smallish bot who awakened his interest for some reason; Prowl later couldn't exactly put a finger on what it was that made him notice the dirty-looking grayish bot. Maybe his dirty, battered armour – but then off-road Transformers usually sported those characteristics. Or his ducking, almost fearful manner with which he darted through the mechs waiting for the morning briefing, shoved aside by some of them carelessly, and his disappearance when he noticed Prowl at the energon dispenser. Whatever the reason was, after that incident he kept looking for the small bot and was interested to see that even among the elusive mechs of the base he was particularly hard to catch. He couldn't even find him among the base personnel data, which was unusual and made him look even harder.

At the end, giving up the futile search he asked the base medic who so far seemed the most friendly of the officers. He too was evasive at first, but after Prowl's indirect assurance that he wasn't pursuing anything, only his curiosity, the mech relented and started to tell the tale. It was an all too familiar one those days, war-torn villages and towns yielding survivors one by one, gravitating towards the fortified bases that meant safety. That the bot was only a youngling wasn't unusual either; some bases stretched the rules to collectively adopt these small survivors, instead of sending them away to the remaining off-planet care centers; everyone knew how precarious the safety of those were in neutral hands, against the cunning of Decepticons. Mechs often found that younglings, old enough to cope with the situation, fared better in military bases.

So, knowing the story of the youngster Prowl was more or less satisfied with the reason and not intending to do anything about it. After some orns he was finishing off his work too and got ready to travel back to Iacon. But at the last evening refuel, he saw the small bot again, and looking at him with the knowledge recently obtained, the tactician suddenly noticed how battered he looked, dents and scratches decorating his thin, dirty-gray armour and followed him out to the base corridors. The medic told him that Blackfoot was clumsy and fell a lot, which could have accounted for the dents – but still he found it disconcerting to see a youngster in such condition. Nor did he really like the obviously disdaining manner with which the medic talked about the mech; together with the humiliating prank that he observed one cycle it didn't paint a particularly welcoming atmosphere to the youngster. They may have adopted the bot, but it looked that they didn't particularly liked him; and Prowl wanted to get to the bottom of this.

He followed the smaller bot through the base corridors, letting him space, not wanting to scare him away again, like the first time. But at a smaller walkway he lost sight of the youngster, and since it was a dead end, Prowl grew a bit concerned. There were no rooms at this part of the base, only some storage spaces, he knew from the inventory – and no reason for a young bot to be around. He stood in the middle of the corridor, undecided as to what to do when he heard a small noise coming from behind one of the doors. Opening the storage cabinet's lock with his officer's code he was shocked by the sight that greeted him; the youngster was curled up on the floor of the small cabinet, lit by a single light-strip, sipping his cube of energon, surprised and visibly afraid seeing him leaning into the small space.

"Blackfoot, is that you? Why are you hiding here?"

The youngster looked back to him with wide, frightened optics and curled even more into himself. - "I… I recharge here." – he answered in a small, quietly hesitant voice.

"Here? Why? Don't you have quarters to recharge? With your caretaker?"

"Powerdash doesn't like me in his quarters. He told me to get lost when I was noisy at night." – the small voice was shaking and Prowl started to get a sinking feeling. Powerdash was rough, insensitive and he couldn't imagine the mech as caretaker for a youngster. He didn't even want to contemplate anything more serious than that - yet.

"Is he your caretaker?"

The nod that answered him was accompanied by a strong flinch, throwing the smaller bot's dents into a totally new light. The youngster was afraid of the base SIC, or rather terrified, if his reaction was anything to go by. Prowl didn't know what to do. It was impossible to leave the youngster there in good conscience, but at the same time he didn't think he had any authority to take the youngster's custody away. Unless…

"Has he hurt you?"

"No!" –the nervous exclamation was anything but sincere. Blackfoot's optics were wide, frightened, avoiding his gaze, like he was told to deny any such accusation.

"Do you like him?"

"I… he is my caretaker… I must obey him."

"A caretaker who cannot put up with you? Besides there is no record of him being legally your guardian. Or you being in the base for that matter."

"N-no?" – the youngster was staring at him like Prowl just gave him a huge present." – "He… I… don't have to stay with him?"

"Not if you don't want to. Do you?"

"I… I don't know… he told me that I must…"

"I see." – Prowl saw that the youngster needed a little time to make a decision. – "I am fairly sure that I could find you a better caretaker – if you trust me and were willing to leave this base. Do you have many friends here?"

"Nobody." – the voice was bitter now, wrought with deep-seated disappointment and hurt. – "They call me a Con spawn, because I have red optics."

"In that case it wouldn't be that hard to leave, right?"

"I… no… but I'd just be a Con to other Autobots too, they said."

"I admit that red optics usually signify Decepticons, but there are exceptions and not all Autobots are so prejudiced. And you can always get a visor if you want to cover them up."

"I don't have any credits to buy such things."

"Look we can talk about details somewhere else. If you want to come with me, be there in the morning when I leave."

* * *

><p><strong>Talking<strong>

The youngster was there at the next morning, unobtrusively slinking behind the mechs' backs, clenching a small, meager bundle of belongings in his servo until Prowl was ready to leave – and he joined the black and white car just after the first bend in the road, obviously wanting to keep his leaving in secret as far as he could. They spent the way in silence mostly, Prowl going over his report and the possibilities about the youngster as well, while he was following the officer cautiously behind, not wanting to intrude on his thoughts. It worried Prowl a bit; a mech at his approximate age should be far more curious, especially at such a huge change in his life, and not silent like this. He hardly got any livelier even when they reached Iacon and the barren, ruined landscape gave way to a city that was only superficially touched by the war and showing at least some of its grandeur remaining from the golden age.

"Have you ever been to Iacon?"

"No. I only know the mountains."

"Were you created there?"

A silence for answer, like he was thinking what to say, before he blurted out. – "I don't really remember. Only the base and the mountains. Not much… from before."

"It is all right. We are not in a hurry, so you can have a look around."

But finally they arrived to the Iacon Command Central and the youngster was again nervously frightened, drawing close to Prowl, even as he was trying not to touch him; the two incentives were clearly battling it out in his processor. His access got them through the checkpoints without a question and Prowl turned towards the med bay, hoping that Ratchet was on duty there. He didn't truly appreciate the mech's manners – or lack of it – but he knew the medic to be compassionate under the harsh words. He was lucky in this regard, seeing as they stepped into the brightly lit and immaculately clean space that Ratchet was the one going on with one of his famous lectures while one of the twins was in the receiving end, as it often happened. Prowl was patient and waited it out until the medbot finished and the unrepentant Sideswipe jumped off the med berth and left with a swagger, showing clearly that the lecture left his processor without sticking in it in any way.

"Prowl. What have you got now?" – Ratchet closed on the tactician, canting a measured glance at the clearly frightened small bot beside him who looked like a street rat. The tactician was about the last mech he would've picked as a likely candidate for going all compassionate and bringing in a clearly homeless and abandoned youngling. Especially one with red, Con optics… where could he pick such a kid up? There weren't any in Iacon, that's for sure.

"Ratchet. This is Blackfoot, who was so far living in our Copper Mountain base." – that statement made Ratchet lift an orbital ridge. The kid definitely didn't look like living in any civilized setting, much less an Autobot base. Prowl switched to comm, while Ratchet motioned the youngster to the med berth and started scanning him.

"_I suspect abuse of the youngling by base personnel. I intend to start an investigation and I'd like your input on his injuries and condition."_

"_If he was abused you will of course have my support."_

Aloud he growled a bit at the implications but stopped when he saw the youngster's frightened flinch at the sound. – "Primus! I won't hurt you, kid. I reacted to your injuries. How did you get so dented and scratched?"

"I… I stumble and fall a lot..."

The answer sounded by rote, learned and artificial and didn't fool the experienced medic for a single klik.

"Stumble and fell… don't give me slag kid. You'd have to fall every nanoklik for this many dents and you seem to have good coordination in the limbs."

"S-some mechs enjoyed tripping and pushing me…"

"Now, that might be closer to the truth than the nonsense you said before. Who was it? I must tell you kid, since you look an intelligent one to me, that we don't take this kind of abuse lightly. It is not tattling to report when someone takes advantage of you. We have laws." – Ratchet was cataloguing the dents and injuries on the small frame, while fixing them up. Most were just slight, superficial damage, for which he was thankful – it was always harder to see critically injured younglings than soldiers. Only one of the shoulder joints looked suspicious, like having a deep weakness inside, but it wasn't urgent either.

"My caretaker said that I just have to cope with pranks and mechs not liking me. He said nobody likes Con spawns and I should be grateful for what I got…" – the voice was so small and almost inaudible that Ratchet had to listen carefully to catch it all. But at the end he still didn't know if he heard it well. – "Primus! A _Con spawn_…? Now why would he call you that?"

"He said only Decepticons have red optics."

"That was your caretaker?" – Ratchet still couldn't believe his audios. Who could be so careless or insensitive to entrust a youngling to a mech behaving that way with his charge? He turned towards Prowl, silently standing to one side and observing the proceedings. At Ratchet's incredulous look he shrugged and elaborated.

"I have found no record of any official adoption. In fact no sign existed of Blackfoot's existence in the base records. But I did find him recharging in a storage closet, because and I quote 'his caretaker couldn't stand the noise he made at night'."

Ratchet couldn't answer for a full breem, he was so shocked and spluttering, stopping even with his work until he could collect his wits again.

"Well, I'm glad that you decided to bring him with you. Anything here will be better than that."

"That is what I thought. I intend to start a real, legal adoption as soon as we have some ideas of who would be suitable. Until that time he can stay with me."

Ratchet smirked a bit at the uncharacteristic emotion colouring the normally unflappable tactician's voice. The youngster must have touched him more deeply than he showed and it promised little good for the base personnel responsible for the abuse.

"Who were your creators, youngling, do you remember?"

He looked lost, frightened and sad, turning his red optics downwards, curling in on himself in a characteristic sparkling-motion, as much as the examination allowed. Clearly the memories were painful and Ratchet wasn't surprised; the war caused innumerable such stories all over their planet.

"I remember my Carrier... a bit. He was deactivated when the village was destroyed. I run away and Powerdash found me. He… he was mean at first but then he told someone that he would be my caretaker. But he was… he was always mean…"

"By mean… do you mean that he has hit you?"

"Sometimes… he was rarely satisfied with me and always 'disciplining'. I heard him once telling someone that it is the way one has to raise a Con spawn."

"_I guess there is no way I can hit this Powerdash mech right now." _– he directed the comm to Prowl who only sent a negative answer, but with a flash in his optics that told the medic that he would likely to be joining him in that, had the mech been around. But aloud they gave no sign of the notion.

"Kid, younglings like you don't belong to factions, no matter what some slaggers say. You are no more Con than me or Prowl here. The red optics aren't a sure sign, all old military models had such, not only those who turned Decepticon when the war began. Your Carrier was a neutral I guess?"

"Yes… I think he was. But Powerdash said my Sire must have been a Con… and my Carrier his whore. What is a whore? Is it like bonded?"

"_Prowl, I hope you make sure this Powerdash figure is removed from our forces and maybe his vocalizer too from his chassis. Or just sic me on him."_

"_I'll do what I can." _– apparently it was too much for the tactician too, who looked like he had trouble to keep his tanks from purging.

"No, kiddo… it is very different. Whore is an insult. A grave one. Nobody should say such thing about anyone's Carrier."

"It felt bad… but he said many things that felt bad." – the youngster looked like he was falling into recharge in any klik. It must have been a tiring cycle for him and he didn't have a lot of rest before either.

"Prowl, I did what I could right now. I'll have a look at his shoulder tomorrow, but a thorough cleaning is in order before that. Will you take him to your quarters?"

"Yes, and give him some fuel too."

"I wanted to suggest that but it is all right then."

They left the med-bay, the youngster looking much better than before without the dents, even though his cheap armour was still dirty and scratched-looking. They stopped at the common room, Prowl drawing a cube for Blackfoot and one himself, patiently explaining the rules about refueling. He listened carefully, even though he looked tired; he didn't want to make a mistake, it had been painful so far to make any. The room was almost empty and they sat at a table, the youngling almost hiding from the ones around, until Prowl asked him about it.

"They never liked me around." – he mumbled over a sip of energon. – "Some just called me on names but a few times they kicked me out. Literally."

"No mech here will do that, I promise." – but Prowl saw in the tightening of his mouth that he wasn't really convinced by the promise; it would take time to see that this place was any different from the one he knew so far. But the kid made an effort not to burrow too close to him and even looked around to the few mechs who hardly noticed the two of them silently refueling there. They didn't stay long, Prowl saw that he was almost in recharge by the time he finished the energon and led him into his quarters. It was fortunate to have a two mech room for himself as it meant a free berth for the youngling, who looked at it amazed like he never before saw one. It twisted something in the normally unemotional tactician to see a youngling react in such way to having a simple berth to recharge on. But he was far too tired to stay shocked by it before he fell into deep recharge and Prowl left him there to make his report and set things into motion.

* * *

><p><strong>Deciding<strong>

Prowl usually reported to the SIC, Ultra Magnus, but with the youngling's story beside his report he decided to ask an appointment with the Prime. He got it without a problem; although he was only third tactician, everyone acknowledged his abilities and saw him as a rising star of the Tactical Division, destined for higher rank in times to come. Besides Optimus Prime was careful to be approachable for the ranks as much as his duties allowed; no matter the frowning of the remaining Council, he was a commoner, he more or less behaved one and never set himself above his soldiers. They went over his report in a single breem, having nothing unusual that would need to be reacted on and Optimus Prime saw it fit to ask what his tactician really wanted to say.

"Prowl, I can see that you have another agenda that you wanted to bring to me personally. Tell me."

"Yes, Prime, I do. I have discovered a deplorable practice during my time in the Copper Mountain base that I want an investigation for. It involves a minor, abused by base personnel."

The Prime frowned, mood turning to dark hearing the summary. – "That is a serious offense, if true."

"It is true, and I have Ratchet's report as well as my own evidence to support it. I enclosed it on this separate report." – he gave the datapad over and Optimus Prime scanned it quickly but thoroughly, noting the particulars of the case and the insinuations, as yet unsupported by evidence.

"I see. I will order a full investigation in the case – the evidence so far is more than enough for that. It pains me to see such behaviour in our ranks and we must cull it." – neither of them mentioned that the Council members sometimes tried to order or demand such or even more atrocious deeds 'for the good of the society' as they often put it. Prowl was secretly glad to see that the new Prime has so far firmly denied to order any such actions – it was why he dared to come to him with his problem. Sentinel Prime had been known to say that ends justified means and they accepted it for lack of knowing any better and none of them wanting to contradict a Prime; but many of them, who thought themselves true Autobots welcomed the new Prime's firm stance on sticking to their ideals, to truth and justice, and not only give those a lip-service.

"Thank you. If it is possible, I'd like the youngling to remain with us; he is close to his final frame and I'd be volunteering to rear him better than his previous experience indicates Autobots to be. It would be illogical to send him to a care center for only a few groons, where he knows no mech at all."

"I see that you feel strongly about it, Prowl. It is not like you to get emotionally involved."

The tactician bowed his helm as he contemplated how to answer to that. True, most mechs saw him as lacking emotions and being uninvolved in what they termed as caring for others; but his famed battle computer never precluded emotions, only put them in the background, so as not to interfere with tactical planning. But it was programmed with ethical values, since he was sparked as an enforcer and no amount of strategic necessity could overwrite those. Whenever he saw such blatant breach of values he was compelled to act against it; and the total lack of strategical importance of the base in the Copper Mountains let his background emotions take a larger role in decision-making than usual.

"My actions were not motivated by emotions, but the breach of laws that I, as a former enforcer must act upon at all times - when I am free to act outside my duties as tactician."

"In other words it was only logical to help the youngling." – a small smile played on Optimus Prime's lip-plates, entirely hidden – he hoped – by his ever-present battle mask.

"Indeed. I had hoped that the logic of my actions would be understandable to others."

"I do believe that it is. I was certainly convinced. What do you know about the youngling's background?"

"It is the only thing that can cause problems later; he seems to be a creation of a neutral and a Decepticon. If the latter were to be determined it can be problematic."

"Yes, I noticed the mentioning of the red optics. Perhaps they can be… corrected."

"Only if he feels like so. But I didn't mean the optics; the youngling seems to be hiding his background, as I find it unlikely that at his age he wouldn't remember anything about it."

"You think that he knows more than he tells and he has a reason not to say it."

"Exactly. I don't think it is a ploy – he is a bit young to be a spy – but I think we should be ready if he decides to come out with it."

"I trust you that you can handle when that comes up."

"Does it mean that you've decided that he can stay with me?"

"It does, Prowl. I can't think a better caretaker than you and he should be trusting you, considering the circumstances."

"Thank you Prime."

"As for the investigation, I'll set things into motion immediately.

They both stood and Prowl moved out of the Prime's office, when a last question reached him in the door.

"Prowl. Have you asked the youngling if he wanted to… rejoin his Sire if you think that he knows who he is?"

Prowl looked up, into the wise optics of his Prime. – "I haven't asked him that question, Sir. I want to see first if he knows what he is choosing between – or if he wants to."

"I see. Good idea. On a separate matter, I want you to have a special look of the new Decepticon Air Commander; his tactics so far have surprised everyone. It is almost like he is suicidal, we cannot plan a countermeasure for his moves."

"I'll do my best, Sir. Is this by any chance that Seeker, called Starscream whom Megatron discovered a few vorns ago?"

"Yes, I believe he is. I take it that you've already heard about him."

"Spec Ops Department had warned us about the mech, Sir. He is talented and as events proved it, innovative."

"To me, Spec Ops also called him crazy, almost to the point of insane."

"Indeed. It is hard to reckon with a mech like that."

* * *

><p><strong>Discoveries<strong>

He woke up in a dark place that was definitely not the usual one where he recharged. There was no softness of any kind in the storage closet and the space felt bigger too. Blackfoot didn't know how he sensed the space around him, only that it came handy sometimes when a prank was about to trap him somewhere or a malicious servo neared him. He touched the soft surface hesitantly with his servo and froze in apprehension as he identified it as a berth surface. Had he fallen into recharge on someone's berth? Blackfoot scrambled down from the surface in a sudden terror, frightened further when the lights came on to his movement and he saw a totally unknown room around him. Fortunately he was the only occupant of the room, which meant that he could escape before its owner came back.

Falling off the berth he landed with a thunk and stood up with rubbing his aft but moving towards the door immediately, slinking outside as it opened. The corridor was strange too, he didn't remember any such in the base and he knew the less-traversed walkways best out of all the mechs living there. But he heard noises from his right so turned left and started jogging down the corridor. After a few kliks' worth of running Blackfoot started to remember the events that transpired before he fell into recharge and stopped in the middle of the corridor. There was a mech, called Prowl who took him to Iacon and a medic who fixed the dents on his frame… and the berth that the black and white mech showed him to sleep on and what he left in a hurry when he came online. He should go back. The youngling tried to remember which way he ran and backtracking his steps but he quickly got lost in the unfamiliar place.

Corridor after corridor and he was sure that he got further from his goal all the time. It didn't help that he wanted to meet no mech and turned randomly whenever he heard someone walking his way; but eventually he was caught between Bots approaching from both ways and couldn't avoid them any more. The two mechs whom he almost run into on his way were bigger and much nicer than he was and for a klik he admired enviously their brilliant, shiny red and gold gloss, accented with deep, lustrous black. He tried to be even smaller than he was, to hide his poor, dirty frame, but the mechs noticed him of course and a sudden sneer appeared on the golden one's handsome face, accompanying the angry yell.

"Don't even dare to come closer, you rusted glitch!"

The red one was also sneering, although less angrily than his companion.

"I can't fathom why some mechs don't use the wash racks. Who are you, btw and how did you get here? I haven't seen you yet and we know every mech on the base."

"I have just arrived… I'm Blackfoot." – he was afraid of the bigger Bots but instinctly felt that they weren't that much older than himself. – "And I haven't found the wash-racks yet." Those were another of the traumatic experiences that made him shudder; the small cubicles were regular places to prank, trap or otherwise torment him since his sensors didn't work well in the wet, steamy place.

"Could you tell me where Prowl's quarters are? I got lost." – he blurted out the question, hoping that his dirtiness wouldn't preclude them an answer. The red one answered to him, while the golden mech just threw a disdaining glance towards him and continued on the corridor.

"Yeah, come on. I'm Sideswipe btw, and that was my ever-happy twin, Sunstreaker. You got a bit far from the officers' place. Do you stay with Prowl?"

"Y-yes. I think he is going to be my new caretaker…?"

"Ohh, so you are a youngling. But Prowl? I can't see him taking care of a kid…"

"Why? He was… nice to me. Nicer than the mechs in the other base."

"He is strict, sticks to the rules and has no emotions or humor."

"B-but… he wouldn't beat me…?"

Sideswipe looked at the battered youngling with a sudden understanding. Their background in the gladiatorial pits made them sensitive to perceived suffering and he saw all the marks of it on the kid beside him. Although he wasn't the most empathic mechs around, the red fighter wasn't completely sparkless and felt sorry for the youngling.

"No, he will never beat you. Nobody here would do that. Trust me, I've seen what you mean, but they are different."

"Yeah… but you don't have Con optics…"

"No, but half the mechs here says that Sunny would make a fine Con and we still get by. I don't know where you grew up, but I bet here will be far better."

"I hope so…"

"You'll see. And here we are."

Thank you Sideswipe, for helping Blackfoot." – Prowl was just approaching from the other way, seeing resignedly that Blackfoot has managed to meet the very mech that he was going to try and keep him away from. He so didn't need the incorrigible prankster to give the youngling all the bad examples, even though he and his twin were the closest to him in age.

"Okay. And when you got cleaned up, we could meet again…?"

"Yeah… I'd like to." – for Blackfoot it was a totally new experience to have a mech who didn't immediately resented him for one reason or other and hoped that he would be a friend that so far he never had.

They entered Prowl's quarters once more, the tactician explaining Blackfoot the arrangements that he put into motion and telling him the base rules that he should keep in processor all time. After that he sent the youngster to the communal wash-racks to get cleaned up; when he returned even the sharp opticked Prowl was surprised that the dirty grey-brown colouring gave way to some still scratched and much chipped, but brighter colours; predominantly black and white, but coloured with some faded red and some details that might have been gold if renewed. He basically looked a new mechling, albeit still a fairly battered one.

"What have you got there?" – he asked, noticing the small bundle that the youngling hid beneath the berth but took up with him after the wash. He noticed a few datapads, a trinket that might have been some kind of an ornament before it got all mangled up… and a distinctive piece of an armour plate from some mech's arm guard, black with a gold stripe. Must have been his Carrier's, Prowl noted with dismay; what a memento to have from one's dead Creator. But he asked the youngling about the datapads, not wanting to press him into answers, he was not yet ready to give. They were surprisingly not stories that he expected, but mostly medical texts on various topics.

"Are you interested in medical matters?"

Blackfoot just shrugged, not really wanting to go into the origin of the datapads. – "Better than the stories I found in the common room."

"You can read any that you find here, and I'll ask around for some that you can learn from."

"I'd like that!" – The youngster was enthusiastic about learning and Prowl was satisfied by that reaction.

"Come now, Ratchet will check your shoulder."

"Okay."

In the med-bay Ratchet was tending a squirming Sideswipe who'd been sparring with his brother and it landed them both in the medic's care. They fairly much continued it verbally, even as Ratchet glowered at them angrily; Blackfoot couldn't imagine someone so much disregarding an angry adult and was reluctant to go any closer. But Prowl nudged him to sit on a med berth and he did so, still staring amazed at the arguing twins. After a while though Ratchet got to the end of his patience and shooed the incorrigible mechs out from his med-bay, turning towards Blackfoot, who was still watching the happenings with undisguised interest. Sideswipe didn't for a klik stopped poking at his twin who got angrier until he blew up and tacked the red warrior into a berth – unfortunately to the one Blackfoot was sitting on. He fell to the other side, the surprised medic on top of him and Prowl hardly remaining standing as the berth crashed into him.

Blackfoot felt a terrible pain ripping into his back and screamed loud, pushing the heavy medic off of him and scrambling to the corner of the bay, hiding under another berth. He felt this pain a few times lately, always in his back when he hit it into a doorframe; or when someone hit him there. The twins froze by the surprisingly loud sounds of pain and somewhat conscientiously stopped their brawl and helped the cursing Ratchet up. All of them turned towards the suddenly terrified youngling, trying to burrow under the med berth, keening in obvious pain.

"Blackfoot, sorry… I didn't mean to…" – Sideswipe babbled hesitantly until a wrench clanged to his helm and an irate medic threw them both bodily out of the med bay.

"Blackfoot, please come out. Nobody wants to hurt you. It was just an accident."

"How did you hurt your back so much?" – Ratchet was sure that a simple fall from the berth shouldn't have injured the youngling, no matter how cheap and light his armour was. – "If you come out, I'll check it for you. Has it hurt before?"

"Y-yes. Sometimes." – the youngling cautiously inched out from under the berth and let the medic and Prowl sit him on another one. Ratchet immediately started examining him with a scanner and soon had his optics widen with surprise; calming the youngling with a few words, he started to remove the back and shoulder panels to make sure.

"You should have told us that you have wing nubs."

"I do?" – there was no way he could have acted that surprise and… the utter joy that coloured his voice. – "I didn't know!"

"Well, you do now. That's why your back hurt; they started to grow and your chassis - which is totally a grounder one by the way - couldn't accommodate them any more. They were squashed and any movement or hit hurt far more than it should have. In time it would have caused you permanent damage."

"What can you do about it now, Ratchet?" – Prowl was silently pondering of the ramifications of this. Not only was the youngling's Sire probably a Con, but even more likely he was a Seeker – and Seekers were notoriously protective about sparklings, mostly up to obsession and violence. To see that one simply abandoned his sparkling in a Neutral's care and haven't even looked for him afterwards either – it was highly unusual, almost to the point of suspiciousness. Prowl's battle computer tried to make a possible scenario for the facts but so far it couldn't come up with a plausible one; but the tactician instinctly felt that there was more to this than he could compute right now.

"I can fashion some kind of a spoiler for his alt mode that would accommodate and protect the growing wings until he gets his final frame. Fortunately it won't be long."

Blackfoot almost couldn't contain his joy at what the medic said. He had wings! Or he would have wings in time anyway. It was the best news he has heard in all his existence. He remembered that his Carrier stressed so many times to him that he must not call attention to himself, that he must not talk about his Sire ever to anyone, for any reason; and that he had to have this cheap, flimsy frame for the same secrecy. But he never, ever told Blackfoot that he would have wings or he would have such nubs growing on his back. Maybe he didn't know? He would have to check the medical texts that he stole… umm, borrowed, to see when the wings would start to grow. Maybe Carrier didn't tell him, because they weren't visible then.

He had plenty of time to think about it, as the medic told him to lie on his front, gave him a painkiller that made him a bit drowsy and started to work on his back. Sometime during it Prowl left for his duties, but Blackfoot hardly even noticed it – he was already trying to imagine what it would like to be to fly one day. He had always envied Sire for his beautiful wings and despaired that he didn't have them. He just hoped that these Autobots would be nicer and give him a flier frame when the time came. But so far they seemed nice, much nicer than the always hateful, angry mechs on the base whom he tried to forget as much as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: "normal speech", _"comm line"_

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet child o' mine<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Secrets<strong>

It took a little over a joor for Ratchet to fashion the spoilerlike appendages to the youngling's back that would accommodate and hide his wings. Not that he thought that they would have to be hidden, but he didn't want to go into the effort of fabricating a scaled-down flier frame for the scant few groons that the youngling had before getting his final one on his protoform. It would be a bit detrimental to his development not to be able to get used to movable wings as they grew, but the medic was sure that a few groons wouldn't make that much difference. He also reinforced the back-plates to bear the weight of the new parts and protect the growing wing-nubs from any injury, grumbling all the time about the cheap, flimsy material.

"There you are. You can sit and have a look at yourself in the mirror."

The youngling sat up with making some funny faces as he felt the unusual weight on his shoulders that pulled his frame this way and that as he moved; but when he looked into the polished metal sheet, Ratchet could clearly see that he liked the spoiler's edges poking out from behind his shoulders. They almost looked like wings, even in their unpainted, metallic gray state and the undisguised wonder was clearly visible on his face.

"If you go to the room next door, the mech there will give you a repaint too. I already requisitioned it, because of the new parts and your frame could do with one too. You can choose colours too, within reason."

"Thank you!"

The joy on the small face was so strong that Ratchet found himself uncharacteristically moved. Younglings were few and far between these days and their naïve surprise at the world and honest emotions were a welcome relief in the war that just started to turn darker and looking endless in its brutality. Blackfoot hopped off the berth, eager to get his new spoiler painted, getting used to it as he walked, thinking how much his life changed since he caught the glance of the black and white officer the first time. It was a gamble to trust him, but one that paid off nicely so far.

He was so proud of his new, shiny chassis that Blackfoot even dared to venture to the common room on his own, half hoping to find Sideswipe there so he could boast his own new appearance to the twins. Since they weren't there, after a cube of energon he went back to Prowl's room and was proud that the tactician showed appreciation to his new contour and colours. He didn't change his colours much, only asked for some more white on his chassis, as it was too dark in all black; and a red stripe on the spoiler that made him reminisce a bit. The painting mech also refreshed the golden stripes on his arms, and every time he looked at them, he saw his Carrier's servos around him with the same pattern that he got.

"Blackfoot, you really didn't know that you have wings growing?"

"No, I didn't."

"Not even a suspicion?"

"Umm… I don't know what you mean…"

"Your Carrier didn't have wings, right?"

"No."

"And your Sire? Or you don't remember him at all?"

"I… don't know my Sire…" – again, the youngling was looking anywhere else than to Prowl's optics. He fiddled with a datapad, the berth, the edge of an armour-plate… Prowl was sure that he was lying, or rather hiding something.

"Look, as I told you, we don't hold against you who your Sire was, even if he was Decepticon. You can tell me if you know something about him. Like about the wings. It is easier to get ready for things if we know about them. And if you don't want to tell me things, then I prefer you to say that to lying about it."

"I… Carrier always told me not to say anything about my Sire."

"Did he tell you why?"

"Because we had to keep it a secret. He said it would hurt me and Sire too if I told about it to others."

"I see. So you do know about him, but have to keep his identity a secret."

"Y-yes…" – Blackfoot was nervous and more than a bit afraid and in response Prowl tried to act neutral, nonthreatening. – "Y-you don't mind…?"

"I trust you to tell it to me when you are ready."

-o-o-o-

Prowl arranged a schedule to Blackfoot that included schooling off-base, in a civilian educational institute; a training course with the twins who, mainly Sideswipe grew to like the youngling, and the tactician thought it was still better if they taught him physical fighting than pranks; and some extra schooling with the base scientists when they realized how intelligent he was. He started to ask him about his knowledge about the war, the factions and history in general and found that Blackfoot was studying this subject eagerly, obviously fuelled by his special circumstances.

He also started to gain confidence after seeing that nobody wanted to humiliate or hurt him any more; there were some remarks about the red optics, but nobody went farther than that. In time, as he noticed, Blackfoot became even a bit proud of them too; he never told it, but it did make him special and no attention-hungry youngling could help but revel in anything that set him apart from the others – as far as it wasn't a disadvantage. As he was quite used to remarks and veiled insults, he didn't consider an occasional such occurrence as important; as far as nobody hurt him he was quite adept at shrugging them off. In fact it wasn't long before he gave as good as he got, sharpening his glossa on the more prejudiced mechs ruthlessly, since he knew that there were no retribution for them.

His curiosity and hunger for new information was great, probably even greater that average mechs, since he was so far denied of any means of learning and did his best to make up for the lost time. His knowledge grew in leaps and bounds, and his tenacity to acquire it was so strong that it even on occasions made his teachers concerned. As one of them told to Prowl once the youngling simply refused to leave the classroom until he felt finished with the assignment to his own standards, no matter that everyone else has already left. Even so, for all that he learned in the school, he asked dozens of questions from Prowl every orn; he realized soon that teachers usually didn't have the time – or the patience - for all his enquiries and brought them home. Prowl could usually address his points better anyway, and that was what mattered. This time, it was a topic that Prowl was waiting patiently for a while…

"I see that you know quite a lot about this."

"I always wanted to know what the difference was… I mean between Autobots and Decepticons. Mechs said a lot of things, mean ones about Cons, but I never understood half of it. And then they seemed to behave the same way as they told how Decepticons worked. So I was confused."

"And you do understand it now?"

"I understand more. Not everything. Like… I can see that Decepticons did a lot of pretty bad things when the war started, we learned about those, but then how could they be so popular? Were Autobots so bad before the war? There isn't a lot of history that tells about that part and I'm sure that the teacher deliberately avoided answering when I asked."

"It is not an easy subject for Autobots. Most of us admit that the pre-war society wasn't perfect, the Senate wasn't the best, the caste system was stifling any advancement and the preprogrammed mechs were treated badly. But it is still not easy to talk about it, even though we gave up some of those bad ideas for good. I'll give you a few pads with more information about it."

"Thank you. I really want to understand."

"You'll have to read them carefully, because some thing you can only understand if you read not only the lines, but between them as well. Remember what I said last time about slanted viewpoints and winners writing the history?"

"Yes… yes I do… it would be interesting to get pads with how Decepticons write history…"

"That is a good idea, Blackfoot… to know what both sides say and see the truth between them. But I'm afraid I can't get you such datapads." – implying of course that someone else could give him those – if only he would reveal his secret. It might not have been the nicest tactic against a youngling but neither did Prowl mean any harm with it.

-o-o-o-

The datapads that Prowl gave to Blackfoot included a few about Vos and the Seeker society – intentionally, as he wouldn't even have denied, had anyone asked him about it. He was curious how the youngling would react to that specific information. Seekers were pretty much mistreated both as war-types and preprograms; and the destruction of Praxus and Vos from the two warring sides pretty much sealed their joining to Megatron's side. He didn't have to be disappointed, as straight after reading the datapad, Blackfoot started to ask him questions again, giving him another chance to possibly find out more of his secrets.

"If Seekers were preprogrammed war-builds, then they weren't very smart, I guess. Mechs tend to say that if I ask. But how could they have a complex society then… before the occupation?"

"It is a common belief, or rather common propaganda. But not all Seekers were the same. Even the adultsparked mechs have personal characteristics and there were plenty of free-sparked Seekers. They are… were pretty prolific. There were Seeker scientists and medics too, and you can't be that if you aren't smart."

"But they are all warriors?"

"All Seekers can be warriors, yes. But even warriors need some common sense if not intelligence."

"I don't wanna be a warrior..."

"You don't have to be if you don't want to be."

"But I don't want to be killed like my Carrier either. Autobots and Decepticons can at least fight, but neutrals are just… killed."

"It is unfortunate, but…"

Blackfoot continued, interrupting Prowl like he didn't even hear what he started to say. - "…and it was probably because of me."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw my Sire only a few times. He said it was too dangerous to come more. But the attack came not long after his last visit. I just got my third frame before the raid… Sire couldn't see it…"

Prowl knew that he would have to be careful with his questions, not to scare the youngling back to hiding the truth. If the Decepticons attacked a neutral village just because of his mysterious Sire, then he must be someone important in the Con army; an officer probably. "Are you sure? Decepticons have attacked neutral colonies before."

"I… I think so. I think my Creators wouldn't have been so much worried if there weren't any danger."

"Do you know why they were worried?"

"I shouldn't tell… Carrier told me never to tell it…"

"I told you Blackfoot that you should tell it only if you want to. I'm not pressing you to do it."

"Sire told me that both Decepticons and Autobots would use me against him… but I don't think that you would…." He looked at Prowl, trust and doubts battling it out in his processor, clearly awaiting to the tactician's assurance that he wouldn't. It was clear that he wanted to trust the tactician, but at the same time he considered it a betrayal of his Creators, what their last instructions were to him.

"Blackfoot, we would never use you that way. You are a youngling, we cannot break that trust…"

"But I'll be an adult in a few groons. Will it be any different then?"

"I hope that you can make your own decisions by then. You'll be a Seeker then, know a lot more about things that trouble you now, and hopefully able to decide yourself what to do and not wait for others to take advantage of you."

"He is your enemy…"

"I already know that – without knowing his designation."

With a deep sigh through his vents, Blackfoot slumped forward, propping his elbows up on his knees. He desperately wanted to trust Prowl, or rather anyone after being alone with his thoughts and secrets for so long and Prowl was there, he was nice and hopefully trustworthy. It was so hard to keep the secret, keep silent for such a long time. Finally, he decided to answer to the tactician's unasked questions.

"He is Starscream…"

It was a bit surprising, Prowl admitted to himself as much. One couldn't go further up in the ranks with a Seeker than the Decepticon Air Commander and it totally explained the secrecy, the worry and the danger. Many in the Autobot ranks would suggest using the youngling in some way just as he, or rather his Sire thought; the Spec Ops division certainly.

"Well, he is certainly one of the most intelligent Seekers around. If anyone, he could manage to hide you from everyone else."

"He couldn't at the end…"

"But he kept you safe for vorns before – and didn't abandon you."

"I don't know… he never came afterwards. Maybe he thinks that I died with my Carrier."

"Or still protecting you by not searching for you. The Decepticon Air Commander is a watched mech that much even I know. Their army just works that way."

"I understand… that's why he couldn't raise me there. But it is wrong! Mechs in the same army shouldn't be suspicious of each other… right?"

"It is not the Autobot way… but an army can work on those principles too. It is constant contest between the officers and as they say it culls the weak and brings forth the strongest, most capable ones."

"But even the strongest mechs can have a weakness, make a mistake… have a creation, like me…"

"Yes. That is the weakness of this system. It brings down everyone eventually, because no mech is perfect, everyone has a weak point; and it weakens the system when the capable mechs are gone and only the middling ones remain. Your Sire knew it – he is quite intelligent and cunning - and tried to shield you; and of course himself at the same time."

"So… he only hid me because I was his weakness?"

"I don't claim to know Starscream's motivations, but if he didn't love you, he would have never gone to see you. He would be safe if he ignored your existence and denied any connections too."

"But he didn't do that…" – Blackfoot was considering his Sire's actions in a different light by this time. The times they met, he never showed any overly emotional behaviour; it looked like more that he felt uncomfortable with Swiftstrike and Blackfoot; the one who was just a casual interface partner and the sparkling that he hardly knew. The youngling on the other servo, awaited him every time like Primus himself came and worshipped every word that he said about himself, the army, the Seekers, basically anything. Blackfoot couldn't have known back then how contradictory it was for a Seeker to have a sparkling and care deeply for it - but a mere grounder one that was usually a black mark on a Seeker's reputation.

* * *

><p><strong>Seeker<strong>

Starscream had his servos full with the almost rebelling Seekers and Megatron's pressure on him to keep his division together – or else. He was far too young for the title of the Air Commander and the older Trines didn't want to accept Megatron's decision about it - a mere grounder, they muttered among themselves, no matter that he was the Supreme Commander of the Decepticon army. It was the prerogative of the Trines' Convention to make such a decision and they were determined to shove that fact into his faceplates. Or into his backplates, he thought with a grimace, as not even Seekers were above the common way of advance in the army; namely assassination. It was fortunate that he was their better in almost everything that mattered, speed, maneuverability, strength, weapons – and most importantly intelligence. Starscream sometimes wanted to laugh aloud when he defused one bumbling, idiotic plan after the other to overthrow him and punished the ones responsible for it.

Still their insistent and unending actions made him paranoid and kept him on his thrusters all the time. He still couldn't even trust his newest Trine-member, Skywarp, who recently replaced the deactivated Arrowstrike. The prankster teleporter was an unknown element as to where his loyalties lay; at least it was not the Trines, but Thundercracker finding him and he knew that he could trust the stoic Seeker who was his loyal Trine-mate for vorns. They seemed to hit it off nicely the two of them as Starscream soon noticed the growing affection between them that they tried to keep from others, but never from him, the Trine leader. It meant that he might in time be able to trust Skywarp in a way he did the blue jet. But in the meanwhile Starscream kept his secrets from the teleporter and watched him carefully. Paranoia kept him alive so far and he had no reason to give it up a klik earlier than he could be certain of his loyalty.

He already failed in his vigilance once when that slagging Icestorm got him drunk one evening and goaded him with his lack of experience in interfacing. Drunk and careless he had to answer to that and brag about his partners, including the present one; and considering that he hooked up with no mech from the army, it didn't take a genius to find out that he visited a Neutral. Who did Icestorm tell it and how they found out the place, he still didn't know, but when he saw the tactical plans that included a strike at Swiftstrike's village, he knew that it wasn't accidental. But it was too late for him to do anything about it – someone made sure that he got the plans only when they were already set into motion.

He could do nothing but watch the monitors in the Command Center, as the tanks rolled through the village, mechs gleefully ruining buildings and killing everyone who moved – while he was aware of the sly glances from Solarwind who was the most vocal of his enemies; and couldn't with a single wing-twitch betray what he really felt. He stood there with frozen faceplates, keeping his wings in check, but inside he was screaming. Someone would have to pay for this – this Unicron-bedamned old fragger certainly - he swore then and tried to lock the events and the memories away from his conscious processor. It wouldn't do to fall apart and loose everything that he achieved for something that he cannot change. No matter how much it hurt.

Only Thundercracker knew about him and Swiftstrike in detail and Starscream didn't even tell him about Blackfoot – that hated, grounder name that his Carrier gave him wasn't something he wanted to tell his slightly snobbish Trine-mate. Not that Starscream hated the youngster, far from it; every time he visited them, he felt their weakish creator-bond strengthen until the sparkling felt like really _his_ and the bond was quite hard to block when he was away. Although he felt disappointed that the youngster didn't start to grow wings even well after its normal time, he didn't resent him for it. Or tried not to. He couldn't fully repress the disappointment that any Seeker would feel in his situation – but then hooking up with a grounder always had the danger of producing a wingless sparkling. The last time he saw them, Blackfoot was ready for his third frame and still no signs of wing-nubs growing; it was unlikely that they would appear any later.

He'd asked Thundercracker to seek out the house where Swiftstrike lived – he couldn't go himself, not in the situation when still unknown adversaries watched him to make any mistake. Megatron wouldn't be happy with his Air Commander creating a sparkling when they were pushing the Autobots back and needed every available mech in the frontlines, nor with him showing softer emotions towards a neutral. Leaving aside the envious elder Trines, his position wasn't all that solid; proving himself every orn was not only advantageous but outright expected and any mistake could be his last.

Starscream often wondered later whether the Seekers would have acted the same way had they known about the sparkling; even those mean old slaggers had to feel something towards a youngster, even if he was a grounder, even if he was his... But it was a lot of ifs, he thought, far too many and he wasn't even sure that only Seekers were behind the attack that to their knowledge destroyed his unnamed lover. No, he thought, any mechs who would destroy a whole neutral village to catch the one they didn't know the designation for, would not have stopped at deliberately deactivating a youngster either.

-o-o-o-

It was close to two vorns since Thundercracker came back from that errand but he still couldn't forget it. At the first glance as he stepped into his Trine leader's quarters, Starscream knew. The blue Seeker was visibly uncomfortable, wings dropping and he was faltering, stammering most uncharacteristically when he started to tell the story. He found both their frames, gray and dead beyond doubt; the only bit of relief – small as it was - that they died a quick death, along with the rest of the villagers, as apparently nobody singled them out as his relations. Skywarp choose that nanoklik to warp into his room after TC with whom he became as much friends as it was possible and still remain Decepticons; and in the situation it was impossible to hide their emotions from the normally insensitive prankster. But at least he could determine the mech's loyalty, Starscream thought bitterly, if he didn't tattle this he could keep a secret later too.

Starscream wouldn't have thought beforehand that loosing someone he loved would cause so much change in him; and he dared to use the term love, if not for the partner whom he liked, but for his youngling that he hardly even knew. He never considered himself a family mech, not since his Sire disowned him anyway; or even one who could or would feel such emotions. But the emotions didn't go away after he got the final confirmation for that terrible news; the missing part, the void in him just kept growing in him all the time and he couldn't lock away the memories either. It didn't help that he never found all the culprits and every time he thought of revenge, the scabbed over emotions were riven open and hurting again.

He tried to burrow himself into work, train and fight to forget. He asserted himself over the jealous elder Trines ruthlessly, not caring about their feelings or sensibilities; even if not in this case but they were his enemies over and over and so deserving his wrath. He climbed the Decepticon ranks until he was near the top and his rank was not a flimsy joke any more; every soldier had to acknowledge his strength, cunning and ruthless determination. He fought the Autobots with the same mercilessness and found a perverse joy in acting and planning so inexplicably that their famed tacticians were baffled when trying to counter his moves. But neither the Decepticon goals – frazzling that they were in time as the necessities of the war swept away the ideas of equality and free choice - nor the demise of his enemies has calmed him any more it seemed. Something was missing and even thought he didn't dare to admit it even to himself, it was starting to eat away his sanity.

* * *

><p><strong>Growing up<strong>

Prowl considered his options carefully. Ever since Blackfoot told him his Sire's designation, his whole demeanor has changed and he became more and more like Starscream – or at least what the Seeker might have been at this age; mellower, less confrontational, less insulting than the adult version but possessing those traits still. It was like a hidden persona was starting to assert itself – and Prowl was sure that the growing wings added to the reason too. The frightened, abused, grounder youngling started to grow into an intelligent, snarky and confident Seeker and interestingly enough almost no mech noted the change. Maybe it was knowing whom he inherited these traits from, he mused once, as Ratchet too knew about it by then and they often discussed the changes. Fairly soon the youngling would be ready for his final frame; mentally he already was.

-o-o-o-

"Sideswipe, you don't have to look like you never seen a lab from the inside."

"Hey, it **is** Wheeljack's! It is prone to explode any time." – the red warrior looked so nervous that Blackfoot was tempted to take a capture of his faceplates and blackmail him with it for groons to come. Of course he knew Wheeljack's lab inside out, while the other was careful to avoid it as any sane mechs did.

"Things don't explode by themselves. Just keep your servos out of anything, I'll find the detonator that we need."

"Do we really need a detonator that he made…? You can put together one I'm sure."

"I could, yeah. But this one is better. I want to program it."

"We are **so** dead. Not only we steal Wheeljack's detonator but you fiddle with it."

"Come on, don't be a whiner."

"Hahh. The prank was my idea, remember?"

"Yeah, I do. But it is always me who works out how to do your brilliant ideas while you whine about getting caught."

"Not true! Only when it is Ratchet or Wheeljack…"

"What is it with you two and Ratchet anyway? You always prank him and he always shouts at you – but in the end he just lets you get away with it. Others just report you to Prowl and you get thrown into the brig for an orn."

"I dunno… we just like to prank and chaff him. We see him more than any other mech I guess… and he is the one who puts us back together after a battle."

While casually talking with his partner in crime about other matters, Blackfoot found the detonator and with a carefully selected tool he started to poke its insides. Sideswipe was keeping a lookout at the door – mainly to see if the scientist came back from his energon break, but also to be able to leap to the outside, had the detonator suddenly got the mind to explode. Wheeljack's things had that reputation and not without a basis, Blackfoot knew - that's why he was extra careful. The prank required a time-coded, elaborate controller, signalling to a series of paint bombs that – in their hopes and plans – would catch the officers as they left their offices when the same detonator started the faux alarm signal to them.

It was an old prank really, but they had hoped to make it work with the new device; the physical triggers that they used the previous occasion were discovered by the more sharp-opticked officers, like Prowl or Jazz and they warned the others. Jazz also exhorted a longish lesson to them about daring to prank spec ops agents and more than that, failing in it. It piqued Blackfoot's competitive nature and he put all his knowledge into the prank this time. The youngling paused in his work for a klik while a strange feeling shuddered through his frame and he tried to identify it. There it was again… and suddenly he knew. It was an instinctive need to flick his wings in a manner that suited his words, but the immobile spoiler constricted their movements and caused a faintly uncomfortable feeling. These instances were becoming more and more frequent as the wing-nubs started to grow with the space that they had. Soon even the spoiler would be too small for them.

"There. It is ready. Let's go."

"Thank Primus. I don't think Wheeljack ever had such a long energon break."

"Nervous, still? It didn't take more than two breems."

"No way. We've been here for like… a joor."

"Hahh. Come on, we still have to find a good place for it and wire it into the alarm system."

As they started to jog down on the corridor to meet with Sunstreaker in the common room, Sideswipe started to muse a bit.

"I do wonder who will want to kill us after this. Prowl for sure, but he'll let you off the hook and by association maybe me too. Ratchet will curse and throw some wrenches but that's all right, because we are used to it. The Prime will give a lesson which will be boring but he will smirk under his mask and hope that nobody sees it. Jazz will congratulate if we can pull it off and kill us slowly if we can't. Ohh… and Red Alert will go ballistic because we hijack the alarm system."

"Nah, we only do it for a breem or so. I don't think the Cons will attack in that time-frame. And you forgot Wheeljack when he discovers his latest invention stolen."

-o-o-o-

Prowl sighed after reading all the reports about the latest prank that involved most of the major officers – including himself. It had Blackfoot's signature all over it, if he read between the lines well; sure, Sideswipe was in it too, and they probably dragged Sunstreaker into it too – but the implementation and its preciseness pointed to the black and white youngster. If something was not done soon he'd have another inveterate prankster on the base – and Prowl wasn't sure if the army could take one more. Especially not one who can prank a spec ops commander; the tactician faintly smiled as he remembered seeing Jazz gasping through his vents when the paint bomb splashed its bright, hot pink contents onto the silvery officer.

He could almost laugh, even though he was in exactly the same situation; albeit he considered his new neon yellow décor a notch higher than magenta in the appreciation scale. Optimus Prime looked impressive – but unimpressed - in all black, unable to see anything through the paint that covered his optics too. Ratchet was simply ridiculous in the chartreuse green and even dropped his favorite wrench in surprise; while Ultra Magnus was impressively angry in his baby-blue with the glitters. The rest of the base was trying not to laugh too loud or in their line of sight, but ultimately they all failed… for the next few orns until the memory of the colourful officers faded a bit.

Indeed, Blackfoot was starting to misuse his position that it was decided not to put a youngling into the brig, especially not one who had been abused in reality by Autobots. But he seemed to put that behind him and soon some means of discipline would have to be found to constrain him, because apparently scrubbing the corridors with his accomplices did nothing to deter him – just like it has never been effective against Sideswipe either. Or an incentive to target his lightning-quick processor towards something else instead of pranks…

* * *

><p><strong>Decisions<strong>

The time came one quiet evening, after some serious discussion of Seeker customs and society – in which the tactician often had to plead ignorance. He simply didn't know enough for the overly curious youngster and slowly guided the conversation towards Starscream, his position in the Decepticon army and his possible relation with Blackfoot. Of course he knew quite a lot about the Air Commander; he was one of the main targets of any spying mission and any such information that they attained was available to the tactician. Even without divulging anything sensitive to the youngling, he could tell him a lot about the Seeker. Not that Prowl has always understood his reasons for acting in a particular way; the Seeker was notoriously unpredictable.

"Blackfoot, don't you want to meet with your Sire?"

The answer was only a wide-opticked surprise from the youngling, who probably didn't expect this question, even with the topic they had.

"Don't mistake me, I'm not trying to get rid of you. But there are a few things that would be easier if it happened."

"Like what?"

"Well, Ratchet and Wheeljack can probably build you a flier frame and do their best to make it perfect; but the fact is that Autobots don't have Seekers in our ranks and so they never before had to build a Seeker frame."

"Ohh… I see… but I thought that we have to hide my existence. I'd like to tell him that I'm alive but wouldn't it be dangerous…?"

"It is dangerous, but I'm fairly sure that both of you want to be at least in contact. Dangers can be minimized and they grow less as time passes. Besides… you can see how little information we have about Seekers. Your Sire could tell you a lot, answer your questions… even if you just meet a few times it would be highly beneficial."

Prowl had thought that Blackfoot would jump to the suggestion, embracing the idea with joy, so he was more than a bit surprised to see the youngling hesitant, squirming on the chair and in general looking quite uncomfortable.

"What is the problem, Blackfoot?"

The answer was an almost incomprehensible murmur, something on the lines of 'nothing really'… but Prowl wouldn't have it.

"If you are worried about it, then say so, Blackfoot. I thought we were over you not trusting me."

"Would it… wouldn't it be a trap?"

"Ohh.. so you are afraid of that. No, Blackfoot, I don't plan to entrap Starscream."

"B-but what if spec ops want to? I know that they do a lot of things that I'm not supposed to know about… and Jazz would certainly do it if he could. Even if Optimus Prime would disapprove of it."

"Look Blackfoot, Jazz has nothing to do with it. Nobody will know about it, only you, me and Ratchet."

"But then you can get into trouble…?"

"Remember what you were taught about free will and the right things that one must do? It is something like that. Yes, Starscream is our enemy. Yes, on a battlefield, we would – I would – try to kill him. No, at first just put him out of commission not kill. But I wouldn't deny him to at least know about his sparkling."

The uncharacteristic, rare hug that Blackfoot threw over his chassis was good enough answer for them both.

-o-o-o-

"Ratchet, do you remember that engineer-medic, Torque whom you worked with sometimes before the war?"

"Yeah. Little mech with a big mouth but good hands. What is it with him?"

"I've been wondering how to make contact with Starscream. Obviously, we cannot go through official channels."

Instead of an answer, Ratchet was staring at him silently but so expectantly that Prowl uneasily shifted on his feet, not knowing what to do or say.

"Ratchet…?"

"Shhh… I'm waiting for your logic center to crash. You openly admitted of breaking laws and intention to fraternize with the enemy!"

"It is not a joke." – Prowl's voice almost faltered in annoyance. He was so not admitting to the medic just how much it took him to sort of convince his own logic circuits that his planned actions were in a long term viewpoint logical and acceptable. It was hard enough to do once and he was not going to repeat the performance to Ratchet.

"Ohh, I do know that. That's why I'm still waiting you to crash."

"Can I assure you then that I won't crash this time and continue from that point?"

"Okay. So… Torque. Is he a Con now?"

"Not exactly. He is officially neutral, but affiliated with Decepticons. It gives him all manners of advantages without having to join them. Because of it, he is a perfect medium to go through."

"Still risky. He can sell you out to the Cons."

"No. I don't plan to use him as mediator, only to carry the first message to Starscream. From then on it will be him and a whole new can of turboworms."

-o-o-o-

"Blackfoot? Is there something… a message or code that you can send to your Sire that he would understand but others wouldn't?"

The youngling was thinking, trying to remember if he ever heard of such secret code from his Creators. It was a fair guess that Starscream in his overbearing paranoia would agree on one, but if he did, it wasn't anything that he heard about.

"No code I'm afraid… maybe my Carrier knew some but I don't know about it."

"That's not good. Your Sire would never trust us to meet and I don't want to send any openly understandable message to him."

"Wait, it doesn't have to be a message, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have this." – Blackfoot held the mangled little ornament-like thing in his servo that Prowl wondered about at first but forgot later.

"What is it?"

"Sire brought it the first time he came. He said it was a traditional Seeker thing but Carrier was very angry when he saw it and crushed it; but I kept it ever since. Sire would know that no mech would have picked up such a piece of rubbish, especially as no mech'd know that it was important to me."

"That's good… then he wouldn't think it a ploy or a trap."

"I think he still would… just wouldn't shoot you straight away. He'd want to know how you got hold of it."

"That is what I think. I can take those odds."

* * *

><p><strong>News<strong>

It was a hectic groon for all Seekers as Megatron was leaning on them heavily in all battles, hardly letting them recharge and refuel sometimes before attacking another of the Autobot bases. But Starscream had to admit, it got results; since the offensive was over, all Autodorks were skulking in behind their more fortified town walls and licked their wounds – while they got some uninterrupted, undisturbed joyflights on reasonably clear skies, not having to fear of being shot down. It as good as to have a little vacation, even though nobody dared to call it as such, lest Megatron got angry again and ordered another heavy offensive.

Finally he had time to spend some time in his lab too; his null-rays were in need of some upgrade and he tinkered until they were honed to perfection even in his high standards. Shooing his Trine out to fly and leave him be, he also started a few experiments involving some ideas that he intended to present to Megatron, hoping to be effective against the wheeled grounder Autobots. It is no shame to learn from other races, he thought, as he experimented with an object called caltrop, if they are successful it will be his glory - if not, their guilt. But his other experiment needed some materials and after comming unsuccessfully Swindle – slagger was probably doing his own business instead of the army's - he decided to go to the neutral town and acquire the chemicals himself.

He didn't intend to linger there a second more than it was necessary and especially not drinking with some already overcharged slaggers – couldn't they see who he was? Starscream felt merciful that he only shot the drunk and obnoxious soldiers with half-power from his null-ray, thus leaving them alive. He almost shot the next one too, touching his arm – these fraggers never learn? – but the small mechanic was visibly not drunk and he knew that the mech would never dare to molest a Seeker. So he refrained from any more shooting and nodded to him, signalling that he would listen. The mech occasionally brought him news for a little favour and never duped him.

"Torque. What do you want?"

"I have a message for you, Lord Starscream. Just not here, in the middle of the street…?"

"Very well." – he followed the mechanic into his workshop, idly looking around, his sharp optics cataloguing everything even though he had no designs on anything in there. It was reflex, an automatism that saved his life many times before.

"I was told to give you this object, my Lord." – he handed over a small box that Starscream – also reflexively – scanned for explosives or dangerous codes before taking and opening up. He lifted out the small object from it – and trained his other null-ray on the shocked Torque, powering it up to full strength and hissing on his most dangerous voice to him.

"Where did you get this? Now!"

"I… I was g-given it by an old colleague, to give it to you! I s-swear I don't know what it is!" – he was almost squealing in his terror; most mechs around knew how deadly the Decepticon Air Commander could be when something has pissed him off - and this time he looked mightily furious. Ratchet told him that Starscream would probably react strongly but this was way beyond that.

"WHO?"

"An Autobot… name is R-ratchet. Their medic…"

"I know who Ratchet is." – Starscream realized that Torque probably didn't know more and it might have been a mistake to react so strongly. Not that he could help it. – "You will speak of this to noone. In fact you'll forget this immediately."

"Y-yes my Lord, I will!"

Going out of the workshop, Starscream made a detour to a sweet-shop where he pensively ate an oil cake until he could calm down enough to go back to the base and face his fellow Decepticons. He had only one look at the object but knew without hesitation what it was; the small crest that he made to his youngling, his first sparked by tradition, the one who'd inherit his title. Had he lived. Swiftstrike didn't approve of it, that much had been clear. They argued a lot about the contradiction of necessary secrecy versus glaringly obvious Vosian heraldry and he crumpled the thing up and threw it away – but Starscream remembered Blackfoot, a mere sparkling then, hardly able to walk, yet picking up the shiny thing and giving his best happy clicks to it. That silenced them both and the matter was dropped – in that mangled form even the heraldry wasn't as obvious as the first time and the thing remained a prized possession of the youngling ever since.

But how could it have come into the possession of an Autobot and sent to him after all this time? Only the three of them knew of the thing's existence and significance. To all outsiders it was just a mangled piece of metals – theoretically a Seeker, maybe an older one might have recognized it for the ruined version of the Vosian coat of arms, but even that was a big maybe. Not to mention that it must have been among the ruins of Swiftstrike's house, along with tons of other slag and rubbish – whoever was looting there wouldn't pick up a totally worthless object. No, it all made no sense. Even on the outside chance of that happening – why would anyone wait for vorns to use the thing to lure him?

Starscream changed his mind and ordered a small cube of high-grade to help him formulate other ideas. He's run out of the logical avenues, so now was the time to speculate about illogical ones. Suppose Blackfoot kept the thing with him all the time; he was fairly sure of this. In this case Thundercracker should have noticed it when he found them and recognizing it, would've brought it back to him. But the blue Seeker didn't mention it so it must not have been there. What if the body, he found was not Blackfoot? What if he had a friend coming over to play and that mechling died in the attack, while his youngling somehow survived? Yes, it was theoretically possible. What then?

Blackfoot knew the importance of secrecy, so he wouldn't tell about his Sire to anyone – instead he would have awaited Starscream to look for him. The tricoloured Seeker held his suddenly heavy helm with both servos. Had he failed his son? Had he abandoned him and let Autobots find him? He thought Blackfoot was dead, TC assured him that he found the body. He never had a reason to think otherwise… until now. For the small crest in his subspace told him in no uncertain terms that his youngling was alive. Alive and trying to seek contact with him. Probably broke after so much time gone and entrusted his secret to an Autobot. Starscream couldn't even imagine a situation in which he'd trust an Autobot, but obviously Blackfoot did and here he was. In fact, he thought wryly, he could've chosen far worse than the famous medic – the mech was able to look above the factions sometimes.

Back in the base, safely in his lab Starscream pulled the ornament out again to examine in detail. It looked innocent enough, untouched and unmarked other than the original damage – until on a whim he pulled up some litmus and spread it on the inner surfaces… and minuscule lines changed from translucent white to red, making tiny glyphs visible. A set of coordinates, times and names - signed with Blackfoot's glyphs. But still. Could he trust… no, he didn't doubt in Blackfoot, but in the Autobots? He would be a prime prisoner for them and this could be an unrivalled opportunity for them to trap him. How could he be there… but be safe as well?

The next few orns he made a point of flying regularly with and without his Trine, over various locations. Their routes unobtrusively encompassed all the given coordinates, scanning them all carefully, evaluating them for dangers and possible traps, just like Thundercracker and Skywarp did on separate occasions. None of them found anything suspicious, therefore the Autobots were either on the level – or far more devious than he believed them to be. In the end he decided to be there and see… well, hopefully his sparkling.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Starscream may sound a bit OC, but it is still the beginning of the war and he is not yet the callous, treacherous, cowardly individual as he is often depicted later in the war. He is Air Commander, but not yet SIC, so he has a bit more freedom from Megatron; but his position is less secure from ambitious Cons.

**Note2**: In my imagination Transformers kids have an inner protoform which is born and grows in a series of growth-spurs, and they have an outer armor that others make them and change when the growth requires it. But it still not like clothes, more like an exoskeleton or hard shell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sweet child o' mine** Chapter 3.

* * *

><p><strong>Meeting<strong>

"Prowl, do you think he will come?" – Blackfoot's voice was more insecure than ever since Prowl first saw him; anxiousness, hope and doubts were all mixing in it while he was wringing his servos together absentmindedly. Prowl told him about the message that he hid on the ornament and as the first date was rapidly approaching they were organizing their collective absence from the base.

"He's got the crest that much we know; and you told us that he showed that kind of secret writing to you."

"But would he want to meet me…?"

"I'm sure he wants to. I got reports of his Trine flying patrol over the meeting points several times during the last few orns and it shows that he cares… and worries."

"He worries about Autobots setting a trap… I think."

Prowl looked at the youngling sharply, barely hiding his surprise. Blackfoot was an intelligent youngling by anyone's standards, but it still threw Prowl off-kilter when he saw him cutting through tangled matters that would have mislead adults even - and see into the heart of them.

"It would be… fitting for his nature, I admit."

"He'll be suspicious, especially so because he's never seen me in this frame. Probably won't recognize me…"

"Would he not feel the creator bond when you are closer?"

"He thinks I'm dead. He'd blocked the bond."

"I see. In that case it would be prudent to tell him your identity soonest."

They had to be careful driving to the meeting point, as it was set in a little contested, but much ruined area, the roads covered in debris, quite difficult to negotiate on wheels. Blackfoot was alternately high with excitement and almost depressed by his doubts and it showed on his driving too; Ratchet was hard put to keep pace with him sometimes. But in time they were nearing to the meeting point, Blackfoot was instinctly drawing close to the two officers, insecurity growing into fear in him. The small group was almost at their goal when they first heard a jet engine rumbling overhead, the singly, colourful Seeker passing them and circling back, pointedly keeping them in his sights. At the abandoned warehouse that they choose as a fitting place for the secrecy the three vehicles drove in and transformed, waiting for the approaching jet as it soared in through the half-collapsed roof and also transformed, setting down at the other end.

Seeing his Sire arriving and landing threw Blackfoot from fear into a frenzied joy, until he saw Starscream lifting his null-rays towards them, clearly not trusting them and not coming any closer either. He felt the Seeker's sharp optics sweep over them cautiously and returning to him, examining his frame in detail, until he saw the stirring recognition in them. From then it was almost too easy – Blackfoot felt the long-closed bond kindling in his spark, his Sire's forceful, proud, sharp-as-lightning presence opening up again, as he had done a few times before when they met. He wanted nothing more than to run there and hug him close but he didn't dare to, not yet, not until the Seeker initiated any such contact.

Since he learned about Seeker society, he was more aware of the almost shame that the Seeker must have felt about having a grounder sparkling than earlier, when he had no idea of it being an issue. Their earlier meetings, his Sire's hesitation, the hidden but always there, little unease came into a new light with that knowledge. Blackfoot didn't even tell about it to Prowl, the grounder Autobot probably wouldn't quite understand the problem and he had no wish to discuss it with any mech anyway. He shifted nervously, hoping that he wasn't going to be ignored or rejected by the haughty Seeker whose dark faceplates were not revealing anything…

-o-o-o-

Starscream was wary, even though he saw no trap, no other Autobots approaching the building and his Trine mates would make sure there were none such while he was inside either. Keeping his null-rays trained to them, he appraised the situation quickly. The two Autobots – the medic, Ratchet and their tactician, Prowl, he absentmindedly identified them – were standing calmly at the other side of the warehouse, flanking a mostly black and white figure that he didn't know but who felt familiar in a way he couldn't easily identify. Starscream's optics drank in his frame, his details, the black feet and arms, the mostly white chassis with the splash of red on the shoulders, the black spoiler on his back with the red stripe, the dark faceplates, so much like his own – and the golden stripes on the servos that brought back memories… and decided the matter. The promise of the crest was not a lie after all.

He stepped closer, lowering the weapons, throwing his elaborate plans of threatening them until he got the truth to the winds and cautiously opened up the bond that he kept closed for vorns and never expected to feel again – and he was met with a cautious, hopeful but reserved joy and a bright, inquisitive presence that was Blackfoot. He felt and saw the youngster shift on his feet, trying to restrain himself from running over and hug him close and it was uncomfortable – was his own youngling afraid of him? Starscream frowned but moved closer, keeping the Autobots in mind as he neared them, sparing them each a short glower and a growl until they retreated a few steps, giving him a small but important space to approach the apprehensive but beaming youngling.

"Blackfoot… It is really you..." – Starscream tried but couldn't fully relax his strictly held façade in the Autobots' presence. He hoped that the bond and his voice conveyed enough so that the youngster wouldn't think him cold and uncaring. - "I believed you to be deactivated."

"I… I thought so… when you didn't come."

The Seeker flinched a bit at the not-quite accusation that nevertheless touched a sore point in him. – "Thundercracker found a deactivated youngling with… your Carrier." – not an excuse, but at least an explanation.

Blackfoot felt his Sire's distress and wanted to dispel it. – "I run away… and Autobots found me and took me in. Noone is to blame for not knowing…"

Ratchet by this time used up all the patience that he had – not much even the best of times - and rolled his optics at the stiff Seeker. – "What the frag are you waiting for? Touch him, hug him, do something before you both explode from the pent-up pressure!"

Starscream growled at the obnoxious medic, half minding to express forcefully what he thought of the interjection, but had to admit to himself that his words did very little to comfort the youngling. He moved a step closer to the rigidly standing Blackfoot and extended a servo towards him, grasping a shoulder, sending as much love and care through the bond as he was capable of. The youngster stilled for a klik while seeking out his optics but apparently he found what he was looking for and the next thing Starscream noticed was two dark arms hugging him around the middle and he awkwardly, not used to the motion returned it. He took another klik to glare at the Autobots, as though daring them to comment on the scene in any way, but they wisely choose to remain silent – the small smile that played across Ratchet's face he ignored.

The bond flared fully open and he was treated by all the whirlwind emotions of the youngling from the deep-set doubts and hurts, through the joy for something that he couldn't name, till the worries for the future. He sent assurance back and acceptance – instinctly guessing the source of the doubts, his grounder frame and the expectations from the Seeker. But Starscream was for once not thinking of anything else but finding his sparkling alive and healthy, apparently well-cared for by the Autobots, despite of his ancestry. Using the youngster's proximity to him, he murmured into his audio what he wouldn't say aloud in others' presence.

"Blackfoot, I'm glad to see that you are well. Don't be afraid of me or my reactions to anything. You are my son. Nothing changes that, not the frame you have or anything else."

But Blackfoot suddenly perked up and when he answered, Starscream understood the joy he felt earlier…

"Sire, I have my wings growing!"

"What?"

"It is true! Ratchet said it started far later than usual, but they now grow nicely. I have the spoiler to accommodate them, because they couldn't build a flyer frame yet."

Starscream could still hardly dare to believe it. He was more or less resigned to have a grounder sparkling, then a deactivated one and now both were proven not true? But Blackfoot was so open and happy about it that it must have been true. Still, he looked at the Autobot medic, like asking confirmation wordlessly.

"Yeah, it is true. One of the reasons we persuaded Blackfoot to tell us your name and convince you to meet us here – we do need help in designing a Seeker frame, if you decide to leave Blackfoot with us."

"I can't take you with me still, Blackfoot... I'd love to, but… I hope you understand."

"I do. Really! I don't particularly like it, but… you can't help it."

"But of course I'll give you any help to design Blackfoot's frame." – Starscream told Ratchet, and he whispered again to the youngling, still holding him close – "I'm so happy for you. Truly. You'll see how marvelous is to fly…. and I'll get to teach you that, right?"

Blackfoot just beamed at him and nodded, far too happy to speak. It was just simply too good to be true to hold his Sire, hear his promise, being immersed in his praise… he knew that the Seeker's still perceptible stiffness was not because of him, but of the Autobot officers, mostly Prowl. Starscream apparently decided to trust in Ratchet, at least as far as it concerned Blackfoot, but Prowl was so far silent and the Seeker couldn't have known his connection to the youngling. So, the youngster proceeded to recount what happened to him since they last saw each other and Starscream was openly proud about his clear, concise and impartial narrative – even as he was growling inwardly and swearing revenge towards certain Autobots. They may have saved Blackfoot but that wouldn't save them from a Seeker's wrath – abusing a youngling was anathema for Seekers, even if it happened to others' kids, not only their own.

"I thank you for saving my son when I couldn't." – He said still stiffly to Prowl, uncomfortable by the newly discovered connection between them, the honour-debt that bound him to the tactician. – "I'm indebted to you. Whenever and whatever you wish in exchange, it will be given." – he couldn't help but shudder at the blank cheque he was required to give to the Autobot, the enemy tactician who could ruin everything he had achieved if he so wished, but Seeker honour demanded it; he owed his youngling's life to him. Blackfoot too caught the nuances of the pledge and glanced to his Sire, worried again. He couldn't help but feel that his very existence caused innumerable problems and hardships to his Sire and as always he tried to take the blame for it. But Prowl defused their worries with a single statement that surprised them both:

"I only wish that you give Blackfoot the choice to decide what to do when he becomes an adult. Whether he wants to be a Neutral, Autobot or Decepticon, he shall decide. If you do so, I consider your debt fulfilled."

"It shall be done. And… thank you."

"We are enemies, Starscream, but we are not without honour. Younglings are the future. It is too bad that Decepticons in general and Megatron in particular don't think so. Blackfoot should have grown up with you… or with his other creator, without fear of being used or abused."

"Seekers cherish all younglings. Megatron is wrong in this… but we can't do anything against it openly."

"You can't do anything really. You are the highest ranking Seeker and even you had to hide your son."

"Don't push your luck, Autobot! I won't listen to your insinuations!"

"Am I not telling the truth?"

"Autobots didn't allow us sparklings at all! It was one of the reasons we turned against them!" – Starscream was screaming at Prowl, ruby optics throwing lightning at him, just restraining himself from showing claws to the one he felt thankfulness a mere breem ago. Not that the Autobot would understand the insult, only the threat, he thought wryly.

"True. But we know now that it was wrong. Will Megatron realize it any time soon?"

"It is not your problem, Autobot. Don't concern yourself with Decepticon matters."

"Well, it is sort of comes with my job." – Prowl's slight smirk surprised all of them; irony was not usually the almost emotionless tactician's forte. – "But we would also appreciate if you could provide Blackfoot with the Decepticon point of view on history and ideology; he had been asking about it, and we can't really supply all the answers to such questions, much as we tried to."

"That is… thoughtful of you… but wouldn't it be harmful for Blackfoot if others were to find out about it?"

"I'll make sure he is careful about not disseminate the material – he will know not to tell the origin of them and he is quite adept at keeping secrets."

"I never told anyone about you, only Prowl..." – Blackfoot felt it necessary to explain it to his Sire why he choose to tell him about the Seeker, but he's rather preferred it alone.

"Can we have a few kliks to us alone…?" – it was hard to ask a favour from Autobots, especially as it concerned _his_ youngling, but Starscream was well past caring about his pride just then. He hasn't seen Blackfoot in vorns and he wanted to talk to him alone, not with Autobot chaperones – and felt that the youngling wanted the same.

"Of course. We'll talk more later."

The two Autobots left the building and the two of them for a little reunion – they understood their need to be alone even though they only had breems to do so before their absences started to rouse suspicions in both factions. Outside, they found themselves facing with two nervous and worried Seekers; Thundercracker and Skywarp were both anxious about how the meeting was going and when the Autobots left the building and Starscream remained in it, they wanted to know what was going on. Fortunately the blue Seeker was calm enough to demand explanation before resorting to aggression and held his mate back – they knew better than disturb Starscream without a reason.

Inside Starscream could finally hug his son without being self-conscious by the Autobots' presence and the Seeker didn't hesitate to do so any more. It was like tearing down the strong inner walls that he had built around his spark; walls that let only his Trine-mates in and nobody else for far too long. Starscream felt vulnerable, but strengthened at the same time by the youngling's presence and unconditional love and hoped that in time he could learn to reciprocate it fully. Long buried instincts came fore as they talked, first like strangers, not knowing much about the other, then slowly getting to know each other as they told little tales and details of their lives; Starscream about the Trine, his work, the emotional joy of flying and the more intellectual one of experimenting with things; Blackfoot about his friend, his studies, and the almost creator-like relationship with Prowl. Starscream envied greatly the Autobot tactician for that last bit…

They left the building together in a few breems, the Seeker's arm around the black shoulders, in a way projecting an almost perfect image of creator and son together; so much so that the Seekers both shut up completely and watched them approach with optics that Prowl was tempted to term as envious. Obviously their connection was healing and strengthening with the little time they could spend together; they were clearly sad to part again, but at least they had other meetings to look forward to in the future and the opportunities to further strengthen their scant relationship.

* * *

><p><strong>Loyalties<strong>

The three Seekers flew back to the Decepticon base in silence; Starscream was still thinking about finding his son again, and his Trine-mates respected his musings, even Skywarp was silent for once. Upon arriving to the base though, they were greeted by the SIC, Soundwave who was clearly annoyed by the Air Commander not present at the strategy meeting that Megatron ordered without being scheduled or at least with a warning. Although nobody could logically blame the Seeker Trine to be out and flying while outside their duty joors, it clearly didn't deter Megatron from being angry at them. Starscream took the punishment - extra night shifts on top of his usual ones - uncharacteristically calmly, like he didn't really care. It was nothing really, he thought, for once not even bothered by the injustice of it either.

He spent the always boring night shifts at the monitors with his own datapads in servos, clearly deep in thoughts in a way that everyone around him came to recognize as his creative mood; his best ideas and inventions came from such periods, like his own null-rays or Megatron's plasma cannon. Soundwave of course noticed it too and intended to have the datapad as soon as the Seeker looked like finished with the design of whatever it was. But Starscream wasn't a beginner in the Decepticon power-play either; he carefully kept two identical datapads with him, one that he intended the SIC to acquire by way of his always sneaking cassettes; and the other that he kept in secret from everyone, including the snooping telepath. He was thankful that Soundwave generally read Seekers badly and his mind not at all; without this the secrecy would have been impossible. It was still a dangerous game of course, but then life was generally dangerous in the Decepticon army – and not always because of the Autobots.

Only his Trine-mates knew what he was doing and they kept his secret from everyone; Starscream was designing Blackfoot's adult frame, the task piquing his creative talent as well as his creator instincts. He was simply glad that he could finally do something for his creation, after more or less abandoning him for so long and so he threw himself into the work with all the enthusiasm and intelligence that he could muster. He wanted the best frame for Blackfoot, to make up for his so far miserable life, the grounder frame still constraining his growing wings, and in general everything he had to miss so far. He felt responsible for the youngling, even though he still couldn't be a real Sire to him; but he wanted to do whatever he could from afar.

It gave him a purpose that was suddenly more important that anything in the army; although he took part of the raids, the planning, the power-play, the general life of the Decepticon army, Starscream felt that he had a new frame of reference, one that subtly reinterpreted and revaluated what surrounded him there. Slowly the omnipresent spying, the intrigues, the rank-battles, the insults and insinuations became less important, less likely to provoke him into a reaction, an ever-deepening struggle that had no winners only losers. Only the other Seekers seemed to notice this change in him; perhaps by some unexplainable flier instincts or just paying attention to details like his wings unconsciously 'talking', but more than one elder Seeker started to watch him in a non-threatening way, for once not plotting against him, only wondering about what was going on with their Air Commander.

He also realized that Prowl's words touched him more deeply that he had let it show to the Autobots; it was true that Megatron used the injustices that Autobots committed against the Seekers and their rightful demands, but only to recruit them and turn them against their former masters. He played well on the grievances of the Seekers, encouraging them, manipulating them sometimes, but only for his own goals, never caring much for theirs. As he started to think of it, he had to admit to himself that none of those injustices were righted or even just addressed by him – only in his speeches, only as vague promises for the victorious future that they would some orn have.

But the fact was that so far the Seekers were still used as war-machines, denied of sparklings, no more free than before, not getting any more education than in those dark millenias while Vos was occupied – in fact most of the Decepticon army was just as uneducated and illiterate as before the rebellion. In those days it was the Senate's and generally the Autobots' interest to keep the masses ignorant – now it was Megatron's. They only changed one set of masters into another one, into a tyrant and Starscream knew enough history to know that tyrants never gave up their powers peacefully, on their own volition. The Seeker knew that many of the Decepticons still believed the ideas that made them rebel – but only in the most superficial way, believing that it should only come after they won the war. Only… only he wasn't so sure about that part any more.

But he couldn't do anything yet, so Starscream, ever a pragmatic one returned to the one thing he could and would make a difference – that is to design a Seeker frame to his youngling and help him to understand his Sire's choice of becoming a Decepticon. The design was nearly ready, only some details gave him trouble, so he switched to collecting writings and treatises on the topics they asked. It wasn't an easy task, as Decepticons notoriously never embraced sciences, only the most applicable ones that were useful for the war-effort – and history was not among these. Ohh, there were plenty of propaganda pieces and boastful descriptions of glorious battles that enumerated every deactivated Autobot Lord or Senator; but he knew Blackfoot intelligent enough to disdain those and want to know facts and clearly discussed ideologies instead.

Unfortunately those were in short supply, so much so that the Seeker was sorely tempted to just write one – had he been ever interested in recounting history, he would've even tried it. As it was, he settled for the best ones he could find, and annotated them heavily to show both his personal opinion and the Seeker point of view. It was the best he could do, and hopefully Blackfoot was intelligent enough to be able to read between the lines – and Prowl fair enough to answer his questions truthfully. The mech was an Autobot, there were no doubts about it, but fortunately not one of the single-minded, tank-processored ones who believed that Decepticon equaled vicious barbarians out for spilt energon and chaos. Like Ironhide. Now, there was a mech only identifiable as Autobot because of the insignia he wore; if not for that he would make a fine Decepticon. Starscream smirked slightly, as he particularly enjoyed prodding him during battles; he was far too easy to rile up and show his true colours.

Once the datapads were filled to capacity with the reading material that he compiled, Starscream returned to the frame design. As usual, the little break and the change of focus worked wonders and he finished it up in no time. Describing and annotating the design and its details for the Autobot medic he saved it and put the datapad together with the others; and pulled up his decoy design for Soundwave. It was another experimental weapon, this time utilizing sound and the Seeker knew that it would highly interest the comm specialist SIC; hopefully enough so that he would not even consider any other project that Starscream worked on.

-o-o-o-

Skywarp was gleefully happy to be entrusted with the little bundle of datapads and a secret mission from his Trine-leader. Most mechs took him to be utterly loyal to the Decepticon cause, and he was that certainly; but others, especially grounders never understood how Seeker society really worked. Loyalty to the Trine first – it was an unshakeable tenet that all Seekers learned from the moment of activation. Yes, he was loyal to Megatron, to his oath and to the Decepticon cause and he would never betray these. But Starscream was his Trine leader, his sparkling was sacred, his secret to be kept; and it did not go against his oath as Decepticon. Skywarp's thinking was simple, along clear-cut lines and he never complicated them with shades of doubts or grey areas in loyalty. As far as he was concerned Starscream's actions conformed to Seeker traditions and didn't violate his loyalty to the Decepticons - and that was enough for him to support his Trine leader fully in them.

He was careful to approach the Autobot base, flying over its surroundings to see if there was anyone in the designated meeting place; when he saw a red and a black form weaving in and out of the ruins he knew that he found them. Were there any more younglings among them, he wondered, as he saw the two mechs playing down there. The teleporter never told any mechs but he longed for a sparkling of his own and envied Starscream for having Blackfoot greatly. He knew that as long as the war was going on there was no chance of him creating; he didn't have a neutral partner, he could only imagine it with TC, whom he came to love, no matter how they had to hide it. But whilst in the army, even their relationship had to be kept as a secret, and a sparkling would be out of question…

Autobots had that better, he thought bitterly; he was sure that his love for his blue Trine-mate didn't weaken either of them in the slightest, no matter what Decepticon credo said. Landing quietly on a rooftop and watching the two forms for a little while, he started to frown; the red one, he was fairly sure, was not a youngling, but one of the frontline warriors that he saw in many battles. A vicious warrior was playing hide and seek with a youngling and not even ashamed of it? Unimaginable. He saw Blackfoot glancing upwards while circling one of the ruins, casting a look at his rooftop, signaling that he saw the Seeker; and ducked into that building, seemingly in the spirit of the game. Skywarp appraised the youngling for his ingenuity and silently warped to the ground level area of the building, almost straight in front of him.

"Hi there." – he watched Blackfoot with great interest, trying to see the future Seeker in the grounder mechling. He instinctly approved of his colouring; a nice mixture of Starscream and a much darker mech, creating a pleasing visage.

"Hello. You are… Skywarp, right?"

"Yeah… Star told you about us?"

"Yes… he did. Told me a lot about the Trine."

"Glad to hear that. Ohh… here it is…" – he said, passing over the little bundle of datapads in the box, grinning at the youngster. – "Star sends it with his love and all that. You know."

"Thank you!" – the youngling was so happy, it almost broke Skywarp's spark to know that the look was intended for Starscream, not him. He wanted a sparkling of his own to look at him like this, adoring, loving, and wishful optics. Damned war.

"Is he… is he all right?"

"Yeah, no problem. Old Soundy was a bit annoyed because he missed a meeting but he only gave him a few extra shifts. Nobody suspects anything."

"Good… I know it is dangerous for him."

"Nahh, they can't even come close to him in cunning. But I gotta go now, sorry. Next time he'll come."

"Thank you again!"

Skywarp teleported out, leaving the youngling to his game and the datapads, leaving the area with a series of jumps in hurry, careful not to let anyone track him or catch him. It wouldn't do to let down his Trine leader in such an important thing or endanger this sweet youngling.

* * *

><p><strong>Friends<strong>

"You look happier than I've seen you for a long time. What happened?"

"Umm… I am happy. Is it a problem?"

"Not a problem, no… I only thought that it had a reason."

"Sure it has. I'm going to get my adult frame in a few groons, I was praised in the school AND by Perceptor, and… I guess that's it. Ohh, and I'm beating you at this race." – Blackfoot laughed at Sideswipe as they sat in the common room, playing with one of the racing simulators. He took Prowl's last lesson to spark and tried to at least cut back on the pranks and tempt the red warrior to do the same; it resulted a lot more outdoor games and simulators than before, but he didn't mind.

"Ehh, I guess it is enough. Still, I can't help but wonder if you had good news or something."

"Umm… well… kinda. It is just… I can't yet tell you yet. Sorry… it is not just my secret."

"A secret then. Okay, I get that. I'll just assume that you got news about some distant relatives who'd take you offworld, away from this war." – Sideswipe of course wanted to get in on the secret, but Blackfoot was the kind that no amount of whining softened up and he knew it. He'd have to go the hard way and pick it up bit by bit as result of careful prying.

"Hmmm… it is not that far from the mark, you know, Sides? But truth to be told, the best news I had was that now I know what my adult frame will look like."

"Wheeljack builds it, right? You're lucky with him, anyone else is in danger around him but you get away with being in the same lab when he experiments without blowing up every orn."

"Yeah, Ratchet told the same. They build it together."

"What will it be like? Is it a secret or you can tell…?" – Sideswipe knew that some people handled the matter of their youngling's adult frame ritualistically, like it was truly a gift of Primus, not something that was made by other mechs.

"No secret… it is a flier frame."

"Really? I officially envy you." – and he did. Fliers were a secret crush of Sideswipe's; the ability to take off and be free of the ground was something he always wanted but never had. – "But why? I mean, I know some ground mechs can learn to fly and handle a flier frame but it is rare."

Blackfoot stilled a bit at the question, carefully considering what he wanted to tell to Sideswipe, whom he considered a friend and consequently trusted; not with everything of course but some secrets were not his to tell and he didn't feel that a betrayal of trust. Prowl taught him the way of always look ahead of a situation or conversation as many steps ahead as he could or felt necessary; to the tactician with the battle computer it was in his nature but the youngling found it highly useful too from winning games till avoiding awkward situations.

"I'm not a grounder… I got this frame last time because my wings didn't start to grow earlier. But now they do."

"Hmm… I didn't know that. So that spoiler is actually… hiding your wings? Come to think of it, when you came here, you didn't have it."

"Yeah… we realized the wings afterwards only."

"Must have been a nice surprise."

"It was, believe me, it really was…" – Saying that meant of course that he wasn't sure of said wings ever grow; Blackfoot knew that Sideswipe would pick up on the implied fact that at least one of his Creators was not a flier.

"But who will teach you to fly? It's not like we have a lot of fliers around."

"I… don't know that yet. I hope that it will turn out right."

"I guess there are always the shuttles."

"Hey, do I look like I'll be that big…?" – probable adult size was more than foreseeable this close to the adult frame, and while Blackfoot wasn't a small youngling, he was not a big one either, thereby indicating a fairly normal adult size once he attained that.

"Hehh… I know. But they are the only fliers around."

-o-o-o-

When Blackfoot wasn't occupying the red frontliner's time from pranks, he still studied, and by this time his studies included the datapads that Starscream sent him. They were a mixed bunch, so much he could determine at first sight; from flimsy, propaganda-looking ones till serious treatises, all annotated by his Sire. That last fact gave Blackfoot huge laughs and sly smirks while reading; the Seeker's dry, sharp wit came through perfectly from those little notes, cutting through the matter and dissecting it in one go, not sparing any mechs from his ire when they deserved it. He saw even Prowl fighting with a smile or two when he read them, as he'd asked Blackfoot if he too could peruse the normally unavailable Decepticon viewpoint. It helped them greatly to discuss the points that Blackfoot found strange or difficult to grasp, even as he collected a number of questions for their next meeting that not even Prowl could answer to him.

He also helped to Wheeljack, as usual, only this time it was his own future frame that they prepared; the datapad with the semantics was in great use as he looked up details and tried to fabricate them. Prowl found that the youngling enjoyed equally to study theory and science as well as building things and practical experimentation. Yet another trait, he thought, that he must have gotten from his Sire. Not knowing the kid's Carrier at all he couldn't discover his influence on the youngling, but Blackfoot as he grew and became more and more confident reminded him almost completely to Starscream. In time, and with the Seeker frame it would probably be more obvious to others too, who knew the Decepticon Air Commander and that could cause problems.

But they couldn't hide the secret forever, Prowl knew and Blackfoot suspected; in time the more attentive mechs would find the not perfectly hidden threads, discover their occasional, inevitable mistakes and finally put the puzzle-pieces together. They only hoped that it was to be later, by the time the matter solved itself in one way or another.

-o-o-o-

Sunstreaker never got as friendly with Blackfoot as his twin, whose easygoing nature and not the least the love of pranks made him a natural partner of the youngling; but he didn't have anything against him either, so every now and then they had a program involving all three of them. Usually it was by Sideswipe's insistence who kept trying to get the two of them closer, not always comfortable without his twin around. Blackfoot never made a lot of friends beside the two of them; the base had no other youngling and most of the Autobots were keeping a distance from him. Nobody went as far as calling him a Decepticon, albeit some jokes were made at his expense – but nobody took the time to get to know him better either. Wheeljack, whom he often helped in his lab handled the youngling with a casual neutrality, neither taken with him, nor against him in any way.

When Sideswipe commed to Blackfoot that he had to go do an extra patrol shift – something to do with a prank that both he and Prowl refused to discuss – he wasn't worried; it happened often enough to the mischievous red twin. He simply resigned to sit alone in the common room, and spend a bit more time on studying that he originally planned to. He was immersed deeply into a rare Golden Age political study that no other than Optimus Prime gave him an orn before, knowing how the subject interested him. He said that he found it among some stuff that his predecessor, Sentinel Prime collected and left after him; and was quite forgotten until recently when they needed a little used storage building and found the cache. It was a very warm, satisfying feeling that the Prime himself took notice of him to the point of knowing his interests; Blackfoot was quite surprised it.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" – a cold, borderline threatening voice broke him out of his thoughts and Blackfoot looked up with alarm. A golden chassis standing close and looming blocked out the rest of the common room from his optics and Blackfoot suddenly remembered...

"Ooops… I was supposed to go to hand to hand combat training with the two of you a breem ago…?"

"Correct. Only… you didn't come."

"I'm sorry. Sideswipe commed that he had a double shift and I guess I thought…"

"… that you could weasel out of it because of that?"

"No! I mean… I like training, I wouldn't shirk it intentionally…"

"But you are afraid of doing it with me." - Sunstreaker provoked the youngling and intentionally so; he planned to use the time now that his so-called better half was not around them to get to know Blackfoot better. Only… he meant that in a different way than most mechs - not by talking. Talk, he had always thought was cheap; anyone could say anything nice, exalted or honorable and even believe in it; but when it came to actions many of those mechs failed their big words.

"No! I'm not afraid of you…"

"Come on then. And… maybe you should be."

They went down to one of the smaller training rooms, logged in as per regulations and Sunstreaker started the lesson without mincing words, by grabbing Blackfoot's spoiler, throwing the smaller mech and then proceeding to show him exactly how vulnerable and sensitive it was in close quarter combat. He was careful not to cause damage, but pain, he believed was an excellent teacher. In fact it took Blackfoot less than a breem to start to employ every move he ever learned to avoid him touching the spoiler again; the usually calm, collected mechling was riled up to an almost panicked anxiety in almost no time.

Blackfoot was trying harder than ever to keep the bigger and more experienced mech away from his sensitive wings. It was quite futile, he knew, but it didn't stop him from trying; every hit that he avoided was a bonus. He was also starting to get apprehensive as the golden frontliner looked like he was meaning business and for some reason going above the boundaries of a simple training. The cerulean optics were never this cold and calculating, the handsome face contorted by a sneer, the occasional word or two growled in a terrifyingly harsh voice. Blackfoot started to panic. It was fine that Sunstreaker was stronger, faster, far more experienced and vicious than him – until he kept those traits in check or Sideswipe warned him to. But the red twin was not there and he was far more busy defending himself than to be able to comm anyone.

There was a particularly hard blow to his shoulder, just catching the edge of the spoiler, jarring the wing underneath painfully – and Blackfoot had enough. Starting to retreat towards the door, he kept trying to block Sunstreaker's moves, but ready to cut it out and – pride be damned – run for it at the first opportunity. But the golden warrior saw through his maneuvering and cut him off from the way to escape, herding the younger mech back to the middle of the training room. Blackfoot was running out of available options and strength too; the relentless blows to his wings and the pain they caused sapped his strength faster than he thought.

"Sunstreaker, please!" – the appeal tore from his vocalizer without a conscious thought. – "I can't…"

"Yes, you can. Keep up." – the cold voice was ruthless, emotionless, the golden twin looking like he just started sparring. – "There are no breaks in the battlefield."

"B-but…" – but his voice was silenced by the continuing assault, and he had no choice than to fight on. Blackfoot wasn't sure where he got the strength by this time, the moves, the sudden ferocity of his own; maybe his anger fuelled him, because he could think of nothing else. Curious, a detached, quietly observing part of his processor said, the angrier he got, the calmer Sunstreaker appeared. Like it was the reaction that he was looking for, that he had hoped to elicit. And as that little part of his CPU also observed, he fought far better in this state than ever before. Like anger elevated his fighting style, amalgamated everything the twins taught him so far and forced him to move faster, better, more effective. He continued to process everything and watch himself from both the inside and the outside, enthralled by the parallel vision, until Sunstreaker suddenly straightened up and stopped, signaling him too to end the sparring.

"Very good. You understood the lesson." – and he was looking at the youngling with those cold, hard optics that suddenly didn't seem so threatening to Blackfoot; they calmed down and lost the little whitish flecks in them that mad him look so terrifying. – "You'd better go to med-bay. Training's ended."

"You provoked me deliberately!" – Blackfoot still couldn't believe it, still couldn't quite make himself to go closer to the golden chassis, no matter how calm he appeared.

"Of course. At some point it is necessary, when the student gets complacent that 'it is just training, nothing bad could happen'. It is an idea that must be squashed."

"So you didn't go for the anger."

"No. Well, yes, but that wasn't the goal. It was for you to take it seriously, and not only say so to yourself."

"I see…" – Blackfoot was starting to calm down too and reluctantly let go of his still smoldering anger and resentment towards Sunstreaker. He still hated this… lesson, but he understood the reasoning. It didn't make his aching wings any better though.

"Don't worry about being angry at me. I can take it."

"I'm not angry… well, not so much any more. For a while there, I thought… that…" – he couldn't finish, suddenly he felt ashamed that inwardly he accused the mech with losing it and trying to harm him. – "I should have trusted you… should've known that you had a reason to behave this way…"

"Exactly." – Sunstreaker was inwardly impressed. Not many that he taught this particular lesson were so fast to draw that conclusion; and even less could swallow their pride and apologize. Of course he had a reputation of being wild, crazed and uncontrollable if Sideswipe was not around; but mechs should know that no officer would choose him for sparring instructor if they didn't trust him not to lose his temper. The youngling was showing more maturity than many fully adult mechs; of course Sunstreaker knew exactly how hard life made one grow up fast.

They reached the med-bay together, Ratchet as expected exhorting them both for irresponsible acting and overdone sparring, but this time Blackfoot shrugged it off the same way as the twins did. Interestingly, Sunstreaker kept him company all the way through and even after the medic was ready, he suggested that they should get a cube of energon together in the common room. Entering there, Blackfoot was greeted by an enthusiastic Sideswipe who looked him over like a worried creator, obviously conversing with his twin through their bond.

"Glad to see that my Sunflower of Doom left all your limbs intact." – he teased the youngling who just realized the extent of their conspiracy – "It was just in time you told me about the wings, you know? We didn't want to hurt them seriously." – he carelessly waved away Sunstreaker's angry growl about the nickname.

"So you were in it too… congratulations, I so didn't see it coming."

"Sunny, we are geniuses. We outplotted a budding tactician."

"I'll one day reprogram you not to be able to tell these nicknames."

"Ohh, but you couldn't reprogram a datapad, Sunny. I'm not really quaking in my armour."

"In fact… Blackfoot might be able to help me with that. Right?"

"Sure. If I get to call you Sunny, that is." – Blackfoot was only too happy to take part in the good-natured bantering; he learned by this time when Sunstreaker's growl meant business and when it was just a show. Also, Sunstreaker's attitude changed completely since their sparring; suddenly, it seemed that he gained another friend and Blackfoot wasn't complaining. Secretly he admired the golden twin since the first time they met, despite of his bad attitude; and being friends with him was something that by this time he didn't expect. Not that he questioned his luck; he had little of it anyway. Immersing himself happily in the friendly chatter, Blackfoot felt better than ever in his existence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **"normal speech", "_comm line_"**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 4.<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Memories<strong>

Starscream sat beside Blackfoot on the rooftop of yet another abandoned warehouse that Cybertron seemed to sport in abundance these orns. They met again, this time without any of the Autobots being present and the Seeker lifted his son up there to be out of any prying optics. Since the first date he could hardly wait out the dozen orns that they agreed to be the minimum between two meetings, so as not to raise suspicions in either faction. Unfortunately there were even times when he couldn't come, when Megatron ordered them to another front to fight there and he couldn't leave without it being obvious. It wasn't easy to arrange these during the war that didn't care about their private lives.

"Tell me about Carrier. How did you meet him?"

Starscream looked at him at first, wondering about the question; Blackfoot might have known more about Swiftstrike than he. But the question clarified what the youngling wanted to know.

"I almost literally stumbled into him one day… but it wasn't as simple as that. It was at the beginning of the war…" – Starscream remembered that day vividly for many reasons. – "Those orns there were much more Neutral places and they were left alone by both sides. Well, more or less – unless a place had a strategic importance. But mostly they were fairly peaceful and many soldiers visited them from both sides for… I guess to unwind and have fun. There were less anger in most mechs, less hatred towards the other side. But actually we didn't meet in such neutral surroundings."

"I've often wondered about the two of you… you seemed so different, like… it was hard to imagine where you'd meet."

"Swiftstrike wasn't quite the peaceful and neutral mech that he acted later… back then he wanted to join us, only his Creator didn't let him."

"Ohh… I didn't know that. He never told me." – Blackfoot seemed quite surprised by the revelation. Apparently Swiftstrike showed him none of his wilder, more adventurous and snarky side, the one that attracted the Seeker so much back then. Of course, having to care for a sparkling while trying to live alone in the war-torn Cybertron must have meant a drastic change in his character.

"Those days Neutrals were more numerous but many of them had leanings to one side or the other. Swiftstrike's creator, Surefoot was, to express it nicely, an opportunist, one to deal with both factions, selling info and rumours to both, hoping to make profit from it. He forbade his creations to join either side, instead he trained them to be his spies, so to speak. Swiftstrike had Decepticon leanings so he was collecting info from us, from drunk soldiers and overheard conversations; sometimes even going as far as to snuck into a base. He was good at it too."

Starscream paused a bit, watching his son as he listened to the tale. Blackfoot was hanging on every word he said, apparently excited by his Carrier's past that he knew nothing about. He was faintly disapproving at the double game, but not even knowing Surefoot he didn't react strongly. But the wilder, darker side of his Carrier was apparently of great interest to him.

"I caught him one orn, as he was just leaving a Decepticon base when I came back, obviously not authorized to be there, looking guilty as Pit. I should have turned him in or even shot him… but he managed to escape and gave me a good chase for a grounder. Good insults too." - Starscream laughed softly – "At the end I let him go as I recognized him from his creator's house, so I knew that I could find him again easily. But the next time we met… well, it was on entirely different terms. I asked him once later if his creator told him to seduce me to avoid retribution, but he'd always denied it. I never pried deeper."

"He… he said when I asked that love is not a simple thing… I wasn't sure what he meant by it."

"He probably meant what I do; that our relationship might not have been the love of our lives, but on some level it was still love. Just not as deep, not as romantic as the datapad-stories tell about it. More of a deep liking and an easy friendship with a strong physical part."

"Ohh… I see…" – he was embarrassed too, as most creations would be when talking about their creators' love life. It was cute to see him wriggling and the shy smirks on his face, fighting with his awakening imagination and natural inhibitions about the subject. This close to his adult frame and with his inclination for any kind of a science, he had a quite exhausting intellectual knowledge about interfacing – but of course no physical experience and the emotional part was hazy too. Youngsters, as Starscream remembered, usually hated this period of their lives, because it caused them the most conflicting thoughts and feelings.

"We liked each other and it was easy to be with him; no responsibilities, no expectations, no hard decisions – only some easy talk, some interface and a drink or too. Especially after his creator was deactivated when he's gone too far with his double dealings. And no, I had nothing to do with that, he dig his own grave by being too greedy."

"What about Carrier's brother? What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He disappeared one orn after Surefoot's death. I think he might have joined the Autobots, as he was more on their side; but I'm not sure. Actually, I never met him and your Carrier didn't know – or tell me – anything about him later."

"Carrier didn't tell me about him either. When I asked him about his family he always got sad and I didn't want to pry."

"I think he wanted to put his family behind after you were sparked. After all, they both left him."

"So he was alone before I was sparked…"

"Yeah. We didn't exactly plan that either… umm, you know…" – Pit, now he was embarrassed too. Starscream didn't want to tell Blackfoot about this part, but it slipped and now he couldn't take it back. He desperately hoped that the youngling wouldn't take it that he was unwanted. – "I mean we both loved you when you emerged, but we didn't… couldn't plan to have a sparkling. I hope you understand why…"

"Yes. I do. I know how much trouble I caused just by existing…"

"You mustn't think that! Don't blame yourself for the problems." – Starscream's optics flashed ruby red with the emotions he tried to keep in check.

"It is still true…"

"Blackfoot. It is not your existence that caused the hardship we all went through. You must understand this. Blame the war, blame Megatron, blame my position and enemies, if you want to – but not yourself."

A deep sigh cycled through the youngling's vents, a servo hesitantly coming to rest on Starscream's bigger one, initiating the touch for the first time, igniting a special kind of quiet happiness in the Seeker.

"I… I think I'll always blame myself a bit. Carrier did that too, you know? I was… sometimes a bit angry that you came so rarely and let us alone so much; and he'd tell me that it was his fault, not yours. It was before I understood the reason for it, and I saw other younglings who had their Sires living with them and I felt… resentful."

"He blamed himself for the accident… that is, for your sparking?" – Starscream suddenly was exasperated. He never knew that Swiftstrike believed so as he never indicated it when they met. Of course they never really had time to discuss matters deeply when he visited them after Blackfoot was sparked and slowly things long forgotten all came out into the light now. The Seekers hoped that they would have no more such surprises from the past… the present was quite enough for him. – "Blackfoot, you must learn to take the blame only when what happened was really your mistake. If you do it all the time you'll end up lacking self-confidence - and besides you let the real culprit get away."

"I know…" – the sigh was sparkfelt from the youngling, like coming from experience. – "Like when Sideswipe did that prank with the glue and it accidentally went all bad and got Bumblebee injured. I was only doing a lookout, but when Prowl asked us, Sides' denied it and I got punished for the whole thing."

Starscream tried hard not to laugh at the sketched little story, so strange because it involved a famous Autobot warrior in the role of the prankster; not that Skywarp was all that different generally. Still, it was funny, even though he didn't particularly like the idea of the warrior twins as best friends for his youngling. It was interesting though that he kind of accepted that Prowl had the authority to deal justice to Blackfoot; not as an Autobot officer, but as a Caretaker for him. That avenue of thinking was something he didn't want to delve into just yet, so he forced his thoughts back to the subject.

"Something like that. " – he managed to say without the smirk in his voice. – "Unless something forces you, you should only take responsibility for your own actions."

"Forces…? Like what?"

"Like… I have a Trine. We are bonded on some level, caring for each other… you already know this part. But I'm their commander too. If they do something – like Skywarp does a stupid prank or fouls up a battle maneuver – I'm responsible for that too. Especially if it is Megatron demanding to know what happened…" – the Seeker added in a quiet voice. He started to notice a while ago that the warlord didn't particularly accept any mistakes in the ranks and tended to take the punishment out on the unit commanders, automatically expecting them to pass it on to their subordinates. Only… he could never punish his wingmates. Not that way, anyway. It has always been the Trine-leader's responsibility to deal with his wingmates – but Seeker society never practiced physical punishments and grounding was an anathema.

Blackfoot seemed to catch on his mood as it turned sadder and didn't ask any more questions. For all his inquisitiveness, the youngling was very much aware of the emotional currents that went on the processors of mechs around him and never intruded or pushed when he sensed turbulences in them. They sat for a few more kliks on the rooftop before the Seeker abruptly stood up and told him that he had to go. He hugged the youngling close, glad to have a convenient excuse to do so, activated his thrusters and they floated down to the street level. A little, hurried goodbye and the Seeker was gone, blasting off with full throttle, to catch up with his Trine on their patrol.

* * *

><p><strong>Cautious<strong>

Starscream and his Trine were taking no chances. They were all determined that this secret had to remain such and that absolutely nobody in the Decepticon army was going to have the chance of betraying them. They covered their tracks with the utmost caution, Thundercracker making sure that the more easygoing and forgetful Skywarp also observed the necessary precautions. They had the patrol routes worked out to perfection to allow Starscream to slip away unnoticed for the necessary few breems but rejoin them in time for a handy outpost or known reconnaissance station that could register him as being with his Trine. They never, ever talked anything about it, only through the Trine bond and Starscream taught his Trine-mates how to strengthen their mental shields so that not even Soundwave had a chance of spying on them – not that the telepath often concerned himself with the lower ranking Seekers, but still.

But they couldn't do anything about Starscream becoming more settled, calmer and despite of trying not to show it – apparently happier. When they realized it happening, Thundercracker and Skywarp cooked up and started to spread some rumours, according to what they used to have a long festering rift within the Trine, between Skywarp and Starscream, stemming from jealousy between the two, and that it was solved now, resulting in the positive changes in their Trine-leader. Starscream for his part played the secretly embarrassed superior who didn't want to confirm any such failing on his part, but at the same time giving off small signs that pointed to the story being true.

It seemed to work so far, only one of the Seekers, Sunstorm, who'd been courting Starscream a while back and therefore knew him as well as Skywarp a bit more intimately, was slightly suspicious about him still. But the mech was fortunately not one of those that their Commanders took much notice of; only one of the numerous Seekers in the army, deadly to approach because of the radiation his core produced, but since he couldn't use it as an attacking weapon, he was considered fairly useless. Sunstorm fretted and brooded a lot about it, trying to make himself noticed, to handle his special ability better, but he never achieved much. Since he had a lingering feeling, a ghost of an affection towards Starscream, he never joined his enemies actively, electing instead to remain neutral in the power-play of the Seeker ranks.

Still, it was a dangerous game that they had to play, as Starscream was acutely aware of. No matter the performance they were giving, he still had problems, matters that he was not sure of, that troubled him greatly. Like… in the last battle, he hesitated to fire on the red warrior, Sideswipe when he had an opportunity, for a whole nanoklik before he could get a grip on himself and force out a shot that was intentionally a near miss. Nobody noticed the hesitation, not even his wingmates – but would he always be so lucky? He knew why it was happening too and that was the worst of it, because it guaranteed to be repeated; the frontliner was Blackfoot's friend and he was hesitating to take that away from the youngling who never had any friends before.

In a way he thought it was fortunate that the tactician and the medic almost never appeared in the battles, and even then it was in the back lines, in a support role. Starscream was sure that he could never kill Prowl, not while he was the caretaker and only confidante of his youngster. How deep would it go, he wondered once or twice; so far the attitude included the two frontliners, Prowl and Ratchet, but it was inevitable that others would be involved too, in lesser roles – and he would be torn in hard decisions. He would not even dare to contemplate yet what would happen if Blackfoot chose to become an Autobot – it would be unbearable as well as impossible to hide or manage.

But he would have to do that soon, Starscream knew; the youngling definitely didn't come across as suitable Decepticon material; he was too intelligent, too sensitive and too compassionate for that. The best he could hope was if the youngster chose to remain Neutral – in that case Starscream might be able to continue meeting and protecting him as well, at least from afar. He definitely intended to teach him everything to be able to survive if that was going to be the case; from mental attitudes to suitable weapons and ability to fight Blackfoot would have everything.

* * *

><p><strong>Suspicious<strong>

The twins sat in their room, Sunstreaker trying to draw, while Sideswipe was fixing some sort of a device that he claimed to upgrade their distillery that produced the high-grade. The only problem was that Sunstreaker had, what made it near impossible to concentrate on his painting was that his twin was prattling incessantly all the time, feeling it necessary to tell him everything that happened while he was in med-bay for a whole orn. It bothered the golden warrior quite a bit that more than half of those stories included Blackfoot in some way, like the youngling occupied the best part of Sideswipe's life.

"Sides', shut up, you know that I'm not that enamored by Blackfoot as are. You only talk about him lately."

"I am NOT enamored by him, Sunny. We are friends… a concept you still fail to understand."

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Yeah, about six thousand times in this vorn."

"But the fact is that you seem blind about him."

"What do you mean?" – It was rare for the twins not to be on the same page about any subject. – "Are you envious, my favorite Sunshine?"

"Sideswipe, you are a glitch. Why would I envy you?"

"My good looks…?" – Sideswipe ducked laughing, without having to look at his twin's way; Sunstreaker's reaction was so expectable he could always prepare for it. Or maybe not always, he thought when the second flying paint can knocked a dent into his helm.

"Idiot. And don't try to sidetrack the topic."

"What is the topic?"

"That Blackfoot is a bit more than he looks to be."

"Funny you'd say that. I know he is more. You'd know it too if you weren't such a jerk. Blackfoot idolizes you."

"What?"

"He told me his secret, that's what I mean; and he'd 've told you too if you had just let him." – Sideswipe saw his twin totally bewildered and started to think that maybe they weren't talking about the same secrets.

"He did? He told you that he is a spy?"

"What? No! What do you mean a spy?"

"So you are blind… come on, think a bit, my idiot of a brother. He plays the youngling well, but the signs are all over the place. He is clearly a Con, he attached himself onto Prowl, a tactician who has clearance to basically everything, and last time we saw that he could hack the base alarm system. If he could do that, he can hack everything and Prowl's terminal is handily there where he can get into it. He also has access to everything the science geeks experiment with. And he goes out to play hide and seek among the ruins, able to get away from you for quite enough time to meet with a contact."

Sideswipe was sitting on the berth in their room with jaw hanging as his normally terse twin recited the arguments. And they were good ones, he had to admit this much; what Sunstreaker said were all facts, except the last one that was conjecture – and probably what could prove or disprove all the others. Still he couldn't imagine Blackfoot as a spy, he was far more honest and straightforward.

"Sunny… he is really a youngling. You'd know if you'd talk with him more. Ratchet would know if he wasn't."

"So what? We could be gladiators while younglings, why shouldn't he be a spy?"

"He doesn't behave like a spy…"

"Then he is a good one."

"Or he is not one."

The twins stared at each other, neither budging an inch from their opinions. Sideswipe admitted to himself that his twin's accusations were plausible from one point of view; but after the first shock was gone, he became even more sure that from another viewpoint they were totally innocent. Strange, mysterious, unusual – yeah, Blackfoot was all those, but besides he was innocent too. Sunstreaker simply didn't - because he couldn't - take into account the youngling's personality that coloured his mysterious circumstances into another light.

"What secret did he tell you?"

"Ask him. I won't tell."

"He'd lie."

"He told me, why would he lie to you?"

"I'll find out first what he's up to." – Sunstreaker was a tiny bit shaken in his conviction; he knew that Sideswipe would never keep a secret that would cover a spy; he was a prankster, but a loyal Autobot. Still, there was something in this that was definitely suspicious and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He observed the youngling even closer after the conversation with his twin. He was sure that he saw Blackfoot disappear for a few breems at least once when a Seeker was also nearby – and a jet left after the youngling returned to the game, claiming he lost his way. If that was not suspicious, then he didn't know what was. Unfortunately he didn't see the Seeker close enough to recognize its colours, but he was sure that if his suspicion was true, he'd turn up again.

* * *

><p><strong>Memories II.<strong>

They had a bit more time on this meeting and Starscream intended to use it fully. He was ostensibly out trying to negotiate with a neutral to gain access to one of the Autobot supply routes and authorized to spend as much time with it as was necessary to secure the results. Since he did that in the first orn, the dealer not being difficult for once, he now had joors to spend with Blackfoot. Instead of the rooftop this time, they met inside one more or less whole building; the forecast promised some acid storms nearby and he didn't want that to disturb them either. Last time he promised a thorough explanation about his choice of faction; the youngling knew enough of history to have a solid background on which he could build. Still, he wasn't sure how or where to begin …

"Were you really a youngling still when you joined the Decepticon… well, back then they were rebels?"

"No. I was sparked by Vector Sigma, unlike you and that meant I've never really been a youngling. I joined Megatron's forces while under two hundred vorns, true, but I was an adult far before that. We had to grow up fast mentally."

"It must have been awful…"

"It was. I was sparked among the last Seekers, at the end of the so-called golden era. You know the history, right?"

"Yes. The golden era was ended by energon shortages and caste inequality breaking up the society."

"Succinct and true. It also brought about the disapproval of the war-builds who, like the Seekers used to defend Cybertron from invaders – but had nothing to do in the peaceful era. Grounders could make it into Enforcers, but we remained a problem for the Senate, especially as Vos was – like all the city-states, only even more so – independent and governed by the Winglord."

"Autobots have a rumor that you belonged to the Winglord's family… but if you were adultsparked, then it is impossible."

"I heard that rumor too…" – Starscream grinned slightly, as he didn't know it has spread to the Autobots as well. – "It originates from the elder trines. You see, they resented me being younger, faster and more intelligent and therefore nominated as Air Commander, without them being asked about it. They tried to overthrow me for a while, and when they couldn't, they started to spread this rumor that upon discovering my ancestry they decided not to act against me."

Blackfoot was laughing loud as his Sire told that tale. He could just about imagine the grumbling, screeching old Seekers trying to come up with something against the young Trine-leader surpassing them in everything - and failing in it.

"They tried to save face, right?"

"Exactly. It was almost funny to watch, at least if you ask Thundercracker about it, since he was really nobility, unlike me and Skywarp. He told me most things that I, as a lowly Seeker at the time couldn't know. Like… as I said Vos was fiercely independent and it caused many problems to the Senate. They tried to negotiate with the Winglord to have more influence in the Vosian government, but he was an experienced, cunning old Seeker and never let the Senate representatives gain any foothold in Vosian politics. Probably that's why he had a suspicious accident after a while… and he left his eldest creation, a youngling still, in power. Although there was a regent, the Trines didn't all accept his rule, they wanted an elder relative to take control as they all saw the troubles ahead."

"What were you doing then?"

"I wasn't in Vos for long and it was already when the young Winglord was mostly overruled by the Senate 'advisors', who made his rule a farce. They slowly wormed their way into Vos, until they had all the power and started to show their colours… I wanted to learn, but it was impossible by then, as they said that us, war-machines need no education and the Academy was destroyed. I got a scholarship to Iacon, but no other Seeker had that privilege as far as I know."

"They said you was brilliant but quarrelsome and belligerent…" – Blackfoot fiddled with his digits as he continued – "…and some said even worse things."

"Well, they tried to provoke me into leaving and showcase me as a token Seeker at the same time – while all I wanted to do was studying and let alone. If not for Skyfire, my partner, it would have been unbearable… and they accused me with his deactivation too on our first and last mission…" – Starscream fell silent… he hasn't told about Skyfire to anyone but his Trine-mates since it happened. – "I was ousted, returned to Vos, found no job whatsoever – by then everything was controlled by the Senate and I was a pariah. Those were the worst times in Vos, the energon shortage rearing its ugly head, the Senate oppression its strongest; it was no surprise when the situation reached the boiling point and erupted."

"And the rebellion started…"

"Yeah… because the Senate acted the same way in Kaon and every other city-state as well, hoping to suppress the problems instead of solving them. In Kaon they oppressed the miners and removed the old Kaonite royalty; in Tarn they tried to control the grounder war-builds who were part of the Cybertronian Defense Forces, just like the Seekers. One by one they took over in all the cities, except those, like Praxus whose ruling elite stood on their side unquestioningly."

"But these were no Autobots back then, right? And there were no Decepticons either."

"No, the faction names came a bit later. It was the Senate on one side and the Iacon elite… and on the other the Kaonite miners, the gladiators and the Tarn war-builds."

"And Megatron."

"He was the focus of it, yes… without him the Senate could have suppressed all rebelling groups one by one. He united them all."

"The Seekers too."

"The Seekers too… eventually. But at first the Trines didn't want to do anything with the miners, gladiators and all the rabble that was Megatron's first rebel group. We, Seekers have always considered ourselves above grounders and I guess there weren't a single noble-born Seeker who would've willingly kneeled to a former gladiator. Not before they had to…"

"What happened that changed this? So far as I knew the Seekers supported Megatron from the beginning – that's what all writings say."

"The Autobots probably doesn't know till this day how close they were to get the support of the Seekers. Their representative in Vos had a brilliant young aide who promised everything the Trines wanted in way of freedom, rights and independence, just to get them on the Senate's side again, seeing that they didn't want to make a common cause with a former gladiator. It might have worked… if not for Soundwave, who realized the danger, killed the mech and falsified a message from him to the Senate, claiming that Vos was declaring for the rebels and only an immediate attack could stop it. The Senate knew that out of all the rebel forces the Seekers were the most dangerous to them and acted quickly…"

"That was when Vos got… bombed…" – Blackfoot saw how painful the topic was to the elder Seeker. His instinctive reaction was to drop it and substitute a more neutral subject – but he didn't, as his thirst for answers, for truth overwhelmed his compassion. Starscream too wanted to continue, to make the youngling understand what really happened; no matter what they did afterwards, the causes that made mechs act in certain ways have always been crucial in decisions later.

"That act was probably the most atrocious thing Autobots did during the whole war ever since. I should be fair and say that it was still not an act of Autobots but the Senate; but they claimed to act in the Senate's name later so, I guess it is but a slight distinction. Megatron of course used it to collect all the remaining Seekers to his side and after the horror we lived through there, he had no problems to do so."

Blackfoot wanted to ask how he survived it, but he found that he couldn't. Starscream answered to the unasked question anyway, voice lowering until it was hard to even hear it.

"When I returned from Iacon, I was basically starving. No job to be found, no free energon, no medical care… nothing existed that before the occupation we took for granted. If not for finding Thundercracker, I wouldn't have survived there to take part in the rebellion. Actually, he found me, but by that time I trusted noone, so he had to work hard on it."

"What do you mean?"

"Uhh… you have no idea how trine-mates find each other, right?"

"No… but I'd like to know."

"Well, most Seekers believe that future Trine-mates are sparked close to each other and circumstances – or godly interference - throw them together so they have no problem to 'find' each other. Some others believe that wingmates find each other by spark-resonance, instinctly recognizing their future mates, but that they need to look for the other two. And a few believe that the whole spark-resonance is just a religious slag and arranged trine-bonds have as much chance to succeed as any. I was trained as a scientist and spark resonance has never been proved conclusively – so for a while I thought that TC just wanted a frag, like so many others; claiming resonance but leaving me once they got through the interface part." – the Seeker's voice was incredibly bitter while he recounted the story in a neutral, emotionless manner. It was harder to tell than the bombing of Vos, because it was way more personal, humiliating and painful. Blackfoot didn't say a word, didn't even move; it was his Sire's pain and it was way in the past, nothing could change it or make it any better… the youngster instinctly knew that this time it would be wrong to offer sympathy. He was glad though that Starscream considered him close enough to tell it; he was sure that the story was one that nobody else got to hear beside him.

"Anyway, when I finally believed that he meant it, the situation became much better; as I told you he was a noble and never had to worry about things material – only about my pride, as it wasn't easy to accept his help at first." – the dry voice acquired some of its earlier smirk and Blackfoot vented a bit easier too – "It was a strange arrangement for sure; he was rich and gave freely, I had nothing, but was his Trine leader and very-very touchy about accepting what I first considered as handouts. But we worked it out in time… thankfully he had enough patience for it…"

"And then the war came…"

"No, at first I enrolled in the Defense Forces. Also with Thundercracker's connections; by that time they stopped recruiting Seekers, but it was still the only place I could get in. Despite of being sparked as a war-build, I never before had any real fighting experience or training. In this Decepticon army, I wouldn't have survived an orn with how naïve and inexperienced I was back then. I tried to solve every problem with my considerable intelligence, but sometimes that simply doesn't work – and you have to learn to fight, to be hard, sometimes ruthless to survive. I learned it. I urge you too to learn at least some of that – survival these orns requires more than study a lot and trust that Primus will steer your life well. I do not mean to become ruthless – only to lose some of the naïveté. Autobots have their beliefs, agendas and goals just as we do – and a lone Seeker might have to go against a lot of prejudice. Especially with me as your Sire – it won't stay a secret forever, try as we might."

"I know… but I hope never have to use that kind of… knowledge… attitude… what you are telling me about."

"Blackfoot, I'll be the happiest Sire on Cybertron if you don't have to use it ever. But it should be there, ready to use if you need it. I can see that the Autobots are teaching you their way, their _idealized_ way. But when all is said and done, you'll have _real_ mechs around you, with real prejudices and hates and attitudes. Autobots are pretty hypocritical if you get to watch them from the outside. Not all of them, no… but many. Decepticons have a lot of failings but at least we are open about our nature, not lying to ourselves about living up to nonexistent ideals."

"But… but… I can't believe it…"

"I hope for your sake that you are right…"

"Okay. I'll try to consider it. But you still didn't tell me about the war, how you got into it. Can you stay a bit more to tell?"

"I can. Right. So, I was in the DF, when Vos got bombed and fortunate enough to survive it. It was sheer chaos, surviving Seekers trying to find their relatives, Trine-mates, sparklings, bondmates… it was sparkbreaking to watch. We tried to help wherever we could but the destructions was just… abominable. That was when Megatron made his move. He had made some advances into Seeker ranks before too, but they only took him seriously after this.

Starscream stared at his servos mutely for a few kliks, drawn into his memories of those orns.

"He was… I suppose believable was the correct term, back then. He wooed the elder Trines, the remaining ones who had the influence to make decisions, he made speeches in the refugee camps that played on our slights and injustices and he promised to set things right after we proved ourselves and won the war."

"Prove yourselves…?"

"That would be Praxus… I'm sure the facts about it are adequately covered in Autobot-written history-pads." – Starscream's dry voice let no emotion slip out from his control. – "That was partly our answer to the Senate for Vos, partly a strategical necessity to occupy the Praxian plains – and partly the Seekers' proof of commitment to Megatron and the newly minted Decepticon faction."

"I see… the history books tell that it was a pointless massacre, the first proof for Megatron's ruthlessness…"

"It was ruthless… but it was not pointless. Necessary is more like it. Yes, we went over the top with it… Vos was still a living horror in our processors and we didn't feel particularly merciful then. It was where I first excelled in a real battle and got noticed by Megatron. He was looking for a new Air Commander but he didn't really understand how Trines functioned or how Seeker politics worked. I was far too young and untested to be named as such, and I guess he did it to spite the squabbling older Seekers, who, I'm sure he knew, still looked down at him a bit. Although I did outperform any Seeker in the DF and in Vos, had a scientific training, no political standings, but a strong Trine; so I guess he was choosing the best really." – not really a shy one, Starscream has never been ashamed of his self-confidence that went to conceitedness often. He knew his worth and was of an opinion that his position was earned and he did his job excellently – and consequently he saw no reason to hide his pride in it.

"You have a name among the Autobots too, Sire!"

"I'm sure with some nasty adjectives attached to it…"

"No! Well, sometimes… but they still acknowledge that you are a worthy enemy."

"Glad to hear it." – Starscream was secretly preening a bit to hear that even the Autobots acknowledged his excellence, but he didn't want to show it. – "I'm afraid that's the end of our conversation this time… I must go and you'll be missed too."

"Ohh… I'm sorry. But I'm glad that you told me all this… I'll have a lot to think about."

Starscream grunted noncommittally as lifted them out to the roof and down to the ground, not really trusting that even his explanation did a lot of good against the Autobots' influence on the youngster. He was more or less fighting a loosing battle there, not the least because he couldn't make a real cause in the present, only for the past. – 'I'll see you next time."

* * *

><p><strong>Secret<strong>

Starscream took off fast as he did always, not trusting himself to make long goodbyes. He never looked back, not trusting himself not to return if he did. Blackfoot understood this but he had it better; he could watch his Sire to take off and disappear in the horizon, the roar of the jet engines lingering a klik more before the usual silence settled onto the acid-streaked ruins. Blackfoot sighed through his vents once when it did and turning away he started to leave the place and go back to Iacon. But after a few dozen steps, way before he reached the open road where he could transform he saw a figure stepping in front of him. He recognized the paint job before he could think of empties or neutrals and suddenly he knew that the coming confrontation won't be easy.

"Uhh.. hi, Sunstreaker…" – he mumbled to the clearly pissed off golden warrior, acutely conscious of the bigger mech's threatening body language. Of all times, he had to turn up now, when he had so much to think about, so many facts and emotions to deal with…

"Care to explain why you are out here?"

"I, uhh… came out to find something. I lost a datapad last time we came here with Sides."

"A datapad. It must have been an interesting one to read it on top of a building."

Blackfoot was starting to get worried. If Sunstreaker saw him on the roof, then he must have seen Starscream too and being a warrior, he couldn't have missed the jet's distinctive colouring. Or not? Blackfoot knew that the golden twin couldn't have been close to them, or their sensors would have notified them of his presence; he was not one to hide and sneak unnoticed – neither his colours nor his training made him good at it.

"Why not? It is stifling among the ruins, you know? Much better to have some clear space around one." – and it was perfectly true. Every flier preferred open spaces to enclosed or built-in ones.

"And what about your company?"

"He too prefers rooftops."

"Of course a Seeker would. A Con Seeker, I might add."

Blackfoot started to hope. If Sunny hasn't mentioned Starscream's designation yet, then he could hope that his Sire wasn't identified. It was still bad, but he has already told this part to Sideswipe and Prowl would back him up.

"Sunstreaker… yes, you saw a Decepticon Seeker. Yes, we talked. But you must understand the reason for it."

"That you are a spy?" – Sunstreaker was scowling angrily, still menacingly looming over the youngling, cutting off his routes for an escape. Blackfoot hasn't moved an inch since he confronted him; the youngling knew that he had no chance to get away, as the golden warrior was both stronger and faster than him. They were alone in the ruined, formerly trading district of Iacon and he would have to explain himself before Sunny did something rash. It was perfectly conceivable that the always more physical twin would just wrap him up or knock him out and deliver him to Red Alert's paranoid servos. Which of course would mean a whole lot of things coming to the light for everyone and Blackfoot knew that every mech more who got to know the secret, the danger grew.

"I'm not a spy. The Seeker is my Sire, he is a Decepticon, but it doesn't mean that I'm any sort of a secret agent or whatnot."

"Of course you'd deny it." – Sunstreaker didn't show it, but he was fairly much shocked by the youngling's confession. He seemed far too calm in the face of the serious accusation and Sunstreaker didn't take him for such an actor to pull it off in this situation. Blackfoot, if anything looked apprehensive of him physically, like afraid of the threat he represented but not the threat of the accusation. – "But you'll have to prove it a lot better than that to be believable."

"I knew he was my Sire but I'd never contacted him – it would have been dangerous for him. Prowl did it; he knows all about me and Ratchet needed help with a flier frame for me."

If it was a lie then Blackfoot was laying it on really thick. But Sunstreaker was less and less sure about it; what the youngling said could be checked easily with just a comm message to Prowl, which he was going to do straight away, just as he should. He retreated a step, letting Blackfoot a little more space, knowing how threatening he must have looked. He was not yet convinced, but willing to give the kid a chance for proving his claims – or rather Prowl to provide a clarification.

"_Sunstreaker to Prowl. Sir, I have Blackfoot here, outside Iacon, claiming that you know about him meeting with a Decepticon Seeker who is his Sire. Is that true or should I arrest him?"_

"_Sunstreaker, Blackfoot is telling the truth. I suggest you both to come back – I suppose the Seeker is gone now? – and we can discuss the matter in detail."_

"_We'll do that, Sir."_

Sunstreaker looked back to the patiently waiting youngling and marveled at his calm. One might argue that if he did nothing illegal then he would have no reason to be agitated, but then that someone probably never stood confronted by an angry Sunstreaker looming over him. It took a certain character to do that under the circumstances and Blackfoot was hardly even uncomfortable as he waited Sunstreaker to finish his comm conversation with Prowl.

"We should go back to the base and discuss it a bit more."

"Okay."

"Is it that secret that Sideswipe didn't want to tell me?"

"I guess so… I told him a few orns ago."

"You didn't tell me though."

"I… I wanted to… but I wasn't sure how you'd react."

"I see. Anyway, come on, we'll go back"

In their quarters, Prowl awaited them calmly, and explained Sunstreaker about Blackfoot's special circumstances and that they were acting with authorization – at which even Blackfoot lifter an orbital ridge, not knowing, only suspecting that part – but he left the Seeker's name out as he perceived that the warrior didn't recognize him and the youngling didn't say it either. He agreed silently with his assessment; that particular info would serve no particular purpose to disseminate but it would probably be too much for Sunstreaker.

At the end Sunstreaker was satisfied with the explanations, agreeing with his twin that Blackfoot meant no harm to anyone, even with a Con Sire, even with growing up to be a Seeker, the only one in Iacon, and even with meeting with said Sire sometimes. He couldn't help but wonder who the Seeker was, but he really didn't see the colours either time; he knew perfectly well how good the fliers' sensors were and how close he could approach them before being noticed. Unfortunately it made identification impossible, as the Seekers all had the same frame-type and he had his spark trace masked, like spec ops agents did on missions.

He realized how much it meant to the youngling that they didn't shed him, not even after knowing his background. Blackfoot had no other friends and he was worried about losing them for being a Con Seeker's creation. Of course it wasn't Sunstreaker himself going into such soul-searching by himself; Sideswipe enlightened him as to why the youngling was suddenly almost desperate to be around them in every breem of their free time. He assured his grumbling brother that the clinging would lessen once Blackfoot saw that they remained friends and their time together would be regular, like before.

Not even Sideswipe mentioned to anyone how glad he was to see Sunstreaker accepting the youngling as friend; it wasn't Blackfoot only who had no mech else as a friend or just accepting him for how he was. He knew better than anyone else how deeply it hurt Sunstreaker when he thought the kid to be a spy and had to accuse and follow him. Not that the glitch would ever admit it, he thought dryly, not even to him. Trust issues were always hard for them and for his brother especially. Perhaps it was good that they could learn about that from the youngling who also had a great number of mechs betraying his trust – and at the end still capable of giving it to new acquaintances, taking the chance of being burnt again, for the opportunity to have friends…


	5. Chapter 5

**Note**:

Klik/nanoklik - equivalent of seconds

Breem – equivalent of minutes

Joor – equivalent of hours

Orn – equivalent of days

Groon – equivalent of months

Vorn – equivalent of years

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 5.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Musings<strong>

Blackfoot sat on the observation deck alone, holding a datapad in his servos, but not reading for once, sitting there deep in his thoughts, gazing out of the huge windows. In front of him, visible through the transparent steel windows was the nighttime, wartime Iacon, far from the splendor of the golden era, but still a sizable and important city. The cityscape lost many of its former, more garish nighttime spectacles – neither the Celestial Temple was lit up any more, nor the Central Gardens and of course the Senate building has not been rebuilt since Megatron destroyed it and its ruins hid shyly in a sizeable patch of darkness near the center – but the smaller buildings were still sporadically alight with spots of lights and even some of the roads had the remnants of their former streetlight-systems. The faintly glittering, mostly silent landscape in the darkness of the night gave away none of the signs and scars of the war; its delusive peacefulness gave a contemplative mood to the empty and unlit deck, high within the military base that was looming over the formerly peaceful capital city like a huge sentinel on duty.

He came here more often these days, needing the time alone now, to think about his future that seemed to come closer and closer every orn. Since Wheeljack and Ratchet finished his adult frame and he saw it lying on the lab table, ready, complete with wings and all, the future seemed just around the corner. Blackfoot knew that they were only waiting for him, the signs that signaled the final transition, and the growth-spurt that would seal his younglinghood and make him an adult at last. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, usually accompanied by a celebration, at least after the mech adjusted to the new, adult frame, and went with a great number of traditions associated with it. He knew that the twins were certainly organizing something and he was sure that Prowl wouldn't let the occasion pass either without something to mark it; others may believe that the tactician was without emotions but he knew better.

Still, he didn't feel particularly happy or ready for celebrating at all. Of course he still had a groon or so, if Ratchet's tests were accurate – and they usually were, but Blackfoot somehow didn't think that his troubles would solve themselves in that time frame. After all, it wasn't likely that the war would suddenly end itself just so he could rejoin his Sire and live happily ever after. Those sort of miracles only happened in silly tales that he'd stopped reading before his second frame. Blackfoot wasn't a pessimist actually, but he considered himself a realist, able to judge events and mechs objectively, just as he saw Prowl doing – and it quite precluded having a pink visor and looking at his world through its beautifying tint or believing in Primus-induced miracles.

It wasn't often that he could be this alone on the usually busy deck that was one of his favorite places when he couldn't leave the base; only for the last few orns most mechs left the base on an offensive that he wasn't supposed to know about – but he did anyway. He wasn't even eavesdropping or spying, but the twins were not quiet about where they were ordered, he saw Smokescreen examining maps of a specific region, Prowl was in almost constant meetings with the other tacticians, several, if not most of the soldiers were preparing for an extended absence - and it wasn't that hard to add the signs together and deduce what was going to come. Blackfoot knew that the whole operation meant that Starscream would not be able to come either; any such big operation by the Autobot side would surely involve the Decepticon Seekers too from the other side.

He considered telling about it to his Sire at their last meeting, but decided against it; that sort of thing would come close to betraying… well, betraying someone. He wasn't sure who and that was his main problem – theoretically he had not collected any restricted info and rumours of troop movements were certainly not a secret to anyone in Iacon. But still, if he was to tell someone about it, it would be definitely different somehow. No, Blackfoot decided, he wanted to do as little with the war as it was possible while living in the middle of it… and if that made him a Neutral, then so be it. He just wished that it wouldn't hurt those close to him…

He couldn't help but wonder about the battles and skirmishes that were probably going on at that very breem amongst the hills around Kalis. Especially about a certain Seeker who must be - because he usually was – in the forefront of the fighting, in the middle of the battles, leading his wing into the fray. On some level, Blackfoot longed to see his Sire in all his battle glory and finesse, flying proudly with his Trine into the thick of the shooting – until he reminded himself that battles were only glorious in the selfsame sparkling-tales that he so disdained. Real battles had little glory among the chaos, the desperate fighting, the snipers' insidious shots, the explosions, the roars of overworked engines and pained vocalizers; the spilt energon, the torn parts that used to belong to functioning mechs, the smoking, melted ruins that remained of once living towns and cities… and the grey husks that were once someones' friends, mates, creations or creators… no, he shuddered, as his own imagination painted him the pictures, battles were not really glorious.

It didn't help a single bit that Sunstreaker bragged before going that he'd bring a Seeker wing back with him for trophy; no matter how much Sideswipe nudged him, he seemed to have forgotten the youngling's presence and what he's learned about him a few orns ago. Blackfoot knew that the twins had a particular score to settle with some Decepticon Seekers and that they have always, in every battle tried to go after them – but it made the situation no less awkward, even after Sunstreaker stopped, suddenly remembering and looking at the dejected youngling with optics that almost said sorry. But it was Sunstreaker after all, and the apology has never acquired a voice aloud, only a hesitant servo on his shoulder that squeezed once and was gone, the golden twin done with the, for him entirely too much of an emotional display. It sure made for an awkward goodbye for them, one that Blackfoot was sure Prowl would ask the twins about, as he was its ending.

Back to his gazing out of the window, Blackfoot absently noted the missing lights that got snuffed from the previous orn; again just a few less family units in the ever-dwindling residential quarter, mechs moving away in fear of the attack that was always rumored, but so far never came. Blackfoot knew enough of general strategy to know that such an attack was extremely unlikely at this point of the war – but, as mechs said in the shopping district often, Megatron wasn't known for predictability or even saneness, therefore any such rumor could have a grain of truth in it. So, every orn there were those who gave up the last semblance of normalcy and either went offworld, to join one of the neutral colonies – or signed up for the Autobot cause, giving up neutrality for greater safety.

Crazy world, Blackfoot mused, where being a soldier in the army gave one more safety than being a neutral. Crazy, upside down and sad. But one that he had to live in it and he knew on the intellectual level that no amount of self-pity would change it to the better. The youngling reminded himself of his Sire's grim determination, Prowl's quiet resolve and the twins' fearless audacity – and pulled himself together again, finding the necessary strength in their attitude, trying to make it his own. He'd pull through, like they did. He could do no less.

* * *

><p><strong>New faces<strong>

The returning troops were loud, boisterous and considering the circumstances, fairly satisfied with the results. Although the offensive wasn't a full success, they still made significant advances and inflicted a lot of damage to both the Decepticon forces and their morale. Even the casualty count was lower than usual, with more damaged than deactivated mechs and although it made the medics grumble and work overtime, it was still better than hold last services for the deactivated ones. With the new base established in the formerly Decepticon outpost in the Kalis hills, some troop reorganization also went on, giving more work to the already overworked base commanders who had to rework the quarters, the duty rosters and the patrol schedules with the new mechs who replaced some of the established troops in the Iacon base too.

For a few joors it was sheer chaos in the base while everyone got settled, the injured transferred to the med-bay and the new ones trying to find their ways in the biggest base the Autobot forces had. Lots of new faceplates, unknown frames and attitudes – Blackfoot sensibly kept to their quarters while the worst of it passed, not wanting to get in anyone's way. Prowl was busier than before if that was even possible; he was promoted to second and given all the duties of managing the base personnel, therefore he was a rare guest in the same quarters. Blackfoot saw his constant tiredness and tried not to pester him at all, leaving him to fall into recharge uninterrupted whenever the tactician made to the room.

But he couldn't refrain from visiting the twins who were confined to the med-bay, having been seriously injured and looking forward to a longish recovery. It was fortunate that he was one of the few mechs that Ratchet allowed in his sanctuary at all times; sometimes he even learned a bit from the medics as they worked and gained a fairly good knowledge about first aid and the way mechs worked. By the end of the first orn after the troops returned the med-bay was less of a madhouse and more like its usual façade; the less injured were fixed and sent to their rooms in the barracks, the more seriously injured mechs stabilized and their repairs ongoing.

Blackfoot sensibly sat out the first part when he would have been a disturbance and only dipped his helm cautiously in the doorway after half an orn was gone – and seeing the slightly calmer activity he cautiously snuck in. He didn't see either of the twins nor Ratchet, which meant that they were in surgery, so he wandered over to one of the assistant medics, FixIt, asking if he could help something. The bot also knew about him and he was set to clean and organize the used tools and scanners back to their places and bring energon for the staff; doing the necessary the menial work occupied his mind while helped the medics to concentrate on their work. It wasn't for another half a joor before Ratchet stepped out of the operation room and accepting the offered energon from Blackfoot, nodded to him with a tired half-smile.

"They'll be all right. Sideswipe almost left half his helm on the battlefield and Sunstreaker won't be happy with all the new plating that he'll have to paint but they'll be up and about in a few breems. Unfortunately. Will you occupy them for a while until we can discharge them so they won't have time to ruin my med-bay?"

"I'll be listening to their stories with jaw hanging and all the necessary 'ahh's and 'ohh's." – Blackfoot was exuberantly happy to hear the good news and in reality eager to hear the twins who always told good tales.

When Sideswipe came out of the medical recharge, necessary for such an operation, Sunstreaker was already up, expectably grumpy about the state of his paintjob but still managing to talk with Blackfoot. Since the red twin was still more than a bit groggy, he left most of the talking to his twin and only amended a few words when he thought Sunstreaker was getting boring – a tactic that quickly resulted a few 'fragoff's from his volatile brother and several laughs from the youngling. It was good to be back to the base, back to normalcy; the offensive was far too serious to his liking, especially after Prowl warned him that one more prank and he'd get sent back – without his twin. There was never a better tactic than threatening the twins with separation; it worked all the time and Sideswipe secretly wondered why it was not used more in general.

The other mechs in the med-bay, close to a dozen still, listened in to the stories with varying interest; some of them, whom he knew added their bits to the recount, while some of the new ones measured him up cautiously. Blackfoot was by this time quite used to the scrutiny from strangers and took no particular notice of it; if asked, he was willing to explain what was the public story; if not then it was their problem how they found the answers to the unasked questions. He listened to the mostly bored mechs trying to entertain themselves and outshine each other with their prowess in the battles. He noticed a mech, sitting dazedly up on one of the berths, apparently quite a bit scrapped up and hardly able to speak from the medication - but getting it on fast and in a breem already joining the topic loud with his own accomplishments.

"I've put ya all to shame, my mechs, you know?"

The mech's announcement was greeted by a ubiquitous groan from all over the med-bay, one that apparently included the medics present as well. Blackfoot never saw the mech before but it seemed that most of the soldiers knew him – and from their reaction he wasn't entirely popular among them either.

"Yeah, Hot Rod, we know. You still have the biggest mouth in the Autobot forces, even halfway to the scrap heap." – came the weary answer from one of the berths and Blackfoot snickered at the outrage that the flame-coloured mech showed. He hardly seemed older than the twins, built like them, a warrior – but while their every movement spoke of a fluid, lethal grace instilled to them in the gladiatorial arena, the newcomer only looked boisterous and conceited.

"I'll let you know that I had the most prestigious quarry that none of you even came close!"

"What, did you find your spoiler again?" – this time most of the medbay smirked or laughed out loud while Hot Rod spluttered angrily before shouting back. The mech was quite touchy about his spoiler, but unfortunately for him he often lost it in a battle, the appendage being an obvious target for any enemy.

"I'll tear your arm off once we get out of here!"

"All right, now, just tell your fabulous kill and let us rest."

"I have shot down that slagging Seeker, the screeching one, you glitch!"

"What, Starscream? I'll be… Hot Rod actually accomplished something besides boasting? That Seeker is – or hopefully was - their fragging Air Commander."

While most of the med-bay agreed that it was indeed something spectacular and worthy of notice, Blackfoot stood rooted to the spot by the twins' berth, unable to move or speak even a single word. His processor was in a total turmoil, his spark pulsed like crazy and it was fortunate that outwardly he was frozen totally, because inwardly he was already planning to kill the flame-coloured mech a thousand times over. He heard the rest of the bantering in a numb daze, wanting nothing more than to run out and find his Sire, only the long-ingrained need for secrecy and a compulsive need to know more was keeping him frozen to the spot.

"Bahh, you got a lucky shot in, what's that for bragging?" – Sideswipe wasn't gong to let the fragger unmitigated glory.

"It was a brilliant shot!"

"It was a cowardly shot. You shot him from behind, and got lucky to hit his turbine and make him crash."

"It was NOT cowardly! Don't you DARE to call me a coward! Fragger almost shot me, I gave it back!"

"Yeah, when he already forgot about you and you dared to sneak out from that ruin you hid in."

"I wasn't hiding! I never hide in a battle!"

"Yeah, yeah, we know… all high and mighty Hot Rod who wins the battles for us. How did you get this scrapped, by the way if you are that glorious?"

"That fragging glitch had two friends there…" – Hot Rod grumbled, not really wanting to tell about that part.

"They are called a Trine, you idiot. When you see one Seeker, you should always expect two more. Especially if you shoot down the first." – Sunstreaker, the resident Seeker expert added sneering to the vainglorious mech.

"Yeah, I know. One of them teleported the slagger away and the other knocked me off with some kind of a sonic weapon and, well…"

"Scrapped you."

"Yeah…"

"Blackfoot, why don't you go and find Prowl? He might be able to help you with an answer." – Blackfoot didn't even sense Ratchet coming beside him and squeezing his shoulder, only looked up when the medic quietly told him to go. The rest of the room, still loudly arguing about their accomplishments didn't notice the youngster lurching out and running to find Prowl, no matter how busy he was. Only Sideswipe saw him leaving and for a klik he wondered about the unusually closed, frozen face the youngster wore – but he was drawn back to the conversation by Sunstreaker and forgot about it quickly.

* * *

><p><strong>Worried<strong>

Prowl was unavailable, in talks with the Prime and Blackfoot couldn't disturb that meeting. He had to wait several more, painful breems, at first lingering in the common room, trying to unobtrusively gather more about the case – but it seemed nobody who was there saw the fate of the Decepticon Air Commander. After a while he ended up lurking in the corridors that were leading to the Prime's office, waiting for Prowl to emerge; for one, fleeting moment he thought of Red Alert, probably watching him on the monitors, fritzing slightly as the mech fought with his paranoia and the trust that he acquired about the youngster – but the next klik he forgot about the twitchy security officer as he saw the two black and white officers leaving the room.

Prowl saw Blackfoot waiting for him in the corridor, trying to hide a nervous anxiety and he was feeling slightly guilty; he pretty much neglected the youngster since they came back to the base, approving his reticence while he had so much to do. But no matter how advantageous it was for his workload, he should have talked with him earlier; he had a suspicion as to what made the kid nervous. It was inevitable that one of the soldiers would mention Starscream's crash to him and he should have been the one really. The youngster was almost visibly twitchy, but still managed to wait until he took his leave from Jazz and turned towards him.

"Blackfoot… let's go to a more private place. I think I know what you want to ask."

Blackfoot only answered with a jerky nod, following the tactician to their quarters. Outwardly he seemed almost calm, only those who knew him enough would notice the small, nervous motions he made, the tightening of the mouthplates, the almost fearful glimmer in his optics. The nanoklik the door swooshed shut the façade was dropped and he asked Prowl, showing all the worry and nervousness he suppressed so far.

"What happened to him? One of the new mechs bragged that he shot him down!"

"I only heard it myself too as a rumor; mechs said that Hot Rod managed to crash Starscream. Since he is on the injured list so far, I haven't gotten his report that would tell more."

"He doesn't know what happened… I heard that Thundercracker got him for shooting Sire."

"So you do know more than me by now. Unfortunately, I'm unable to tell you any more, until someone submits a report with facts about it."

"I hope he is all right… Hot Rod said that 'Warp teleported him away."

"Then he probably survived. What does your bond tell you? I know that he blocks it when he is away, but you should still feel if he is alive or not."

"I… I think he is. Or I just hope…?"

"The next arranged date is only three orns away. Even if he can't come, one of his Trine mates probably will. He knows that you worry about him."

"Yeah… right. I have to wait…"

-o-o-o-

In the course of a single orn Blackfoot's hate towards the mech, Hot Rod as he was called, grew in leaps and bounds. Since he was released from med-bay to light duty, he seemed to have taken up residence in the common room, telling his tale of bravery, glory and coolness to everyone who'd still listen to him, embellishing it every time, until it reached truly ridiculous proportions. Blackfoot, who was there too, to listen to it so that he might catch an important detail, thought that after the first dozen retellings one who was not there might've thought that it was Hot Rod alone, singlehandedly stopping a whole wing of cowardly Seekers from obliterating the Autobot army. In a way it was good, because everyone who got to hear the story, quickly sized up its teller and dismissed it as pure and empty boasting; but in a way it hurt to hear, no matter the false way it was told, because he knew that a grain of fact was unfortunately really in the middle of it.

On top of things, Hot Rod seemed to be one of those mechs that loved their prejudices and sneeringly called Blackfoot, when he spotted him a Con spawn, reawakening painful memories in the youngster. The young warrior was not the kind of a mech who gathered facts carefully to make a solidly based deduction; instead he had a look at the angry red optics, the black, red and gold chassis and decided that no matter what others said, for him the youngster was a Con, or as near to it as he could be. He often expressed this opinion too, loudly and assertively, just the way he spoke about everything, quite oblivious of the mechs who'd known Blackfoot longer and tried to tell him what they personally experienced about the youngling.

To further complicate matters, the twins found Hot Rod to their liking, finding him a similarly minded frontline warrior as themselves, albeit they often made fun of his boasting; and also one to disregard rules freely, just like Sideswipe liked it for his pranks. It meant that Blackfoot either had to leave his friends more and more alone, while they socialized with the new mech – or having to put up with his obnoxious presence and insulting remarks if he choose to join them. Neither was a good option, especially as he still hasn't got news from Starscream's fate and he could hardly wait until he did.

-o-o-o-

Blackfoot raced through the streets of Iacon, dangerously fast, as some of the other cars expressed to him with annoyed honks while he zipped through the traffic, desperate to reach the ruins in time. Of all times that Ratchet needed to examine him in detail, it had to be now, when he was desperate to be there at the meeting… the medic didn't do it intentionally of course, Blackfoot's nearness to the change necessitated these tests more and more often; but it didn't change the fact that he was almost late and still had a good mile or so to go among the ruins, where he couldn't even drive, much less drive fast.

Running and jumping over the fallen and distorted metallic blocks he was venting quite hard by the time he neared to the meeting point and he had to be careful now, slow down and check if he wasn't followed, the learned automatism to play safe forcing him to cut back the speed and act cautiously, like always. Moving through the motions and sweeping the area with sensors in their highest sensitivity, Blackfoot neared the landmark, a broken obelisk and to his greatest joy heard the much-awaited sounds nearing too; jet engines roaring overhead, cutting out and their owner landing gracefully behind the wall that one orn, long ago encircled a small crystal garden by the victory memorial. Putting in a final sprint, the youngster crossed the acid-marked, explosion-torn square and wrenched open the long rusted gate that led to the garden.

It was a slight disappointment and awakening anxiety that made his voice break slightly when he saw the colours of the jet in front of him. Dark blue instead of azure, black instead of silvery white and dark crimson instead of cherry red – only the ruby optics had the same colour, but even those seemed to convey a different personality and attitude. He knew Thundercracker the least of the Trine as the introverted, serious Seeker rarely came to their meetings even if Starscream was unavailable – and now he was almost held back from the questions tearing out from his vocalizer by the shyness and automatic distance from the lesser-known mech.

"I heard… I heard that Sire was… shot down? Was he…?" – he couldn't even voice the last part of the question.

"Starscream is all right." – came the answer in that deep, calming voice that, together with the content did a lot of good for Blackfoot's mental balance. – "He is still in the repair-bay though and Warp is…" – his voice had a strange break in it, along with an emotion that Blackfoot couldn't decipher – "…unavailable, so we agreed that I should come. Star knew you'd be worried."

"Still not repaired?" – after three or four orns it meant really serious injuries, Blackfoot understood this much from medical matters. – "A mech was bragging about shooting him down."

"So he lived to brag…" – Thundercracker's deep bass voice held a faintly annoyed tinge and his dark blue wings flickered in harmony with it. – "I thought that I'd managed to deactivate him. But no, Star was not that seriously injured in the battle – a crash and an exploded turbine is not enough to put him out of commission."

"Then what? Why is he still in the repair-bay?" – Blackfoot thought that he detected a reluctant, hesitant tone in the Seeker's voice, like it was something he didn't really want to elaborate on. He looked like that too, the slight shift in his stance, the dark blue wings that arched backwards just a bit and the optics that suddenly didn't find the youngling's eager gaze interesting enough to hold all told of some reluctance to continue. But Thundercracker was not one to withhold the truth and Star told him to be honest with Blackfoot if he asked, so he answered him.

"I'm sure you have an idea how the Decepticon army works. We lost the battle, we lost the offensive and a full base to boot – and Megatron must have someone to blame at all times. Since Star was shot down, the Commander chose him as the leader of the aerial force to make an example…"

"You… don't m-mean that he was…" – Blackfoot knew that Thundercracker was serious and what he implied was exactly what the worst of his imagination suggested; the Decepticon Commander beat the Seeker enough to put back to med-bay for _orns_… he felt like crying, something he didn't do for vorns and the impulse was hard to beat back. - "No…"

"I'm afraid I do mean it. Since it was nobody's fault alone, he picked the one who got bested by Autobots. It is… just the way he works. But Star will be all right soon – Megatron wouldn't deactivate his Air Commander."

"Still… it is… awful…" – Blackfoot didn't know what to say to this. Thundercracker looked like such a thing was natural, even though he didn't have to like it – but he couldn't accept such a thing. It was seriously abnormal as far as he was concerned, sick and unfair. – "How can he… how can you accept him doing this…?"

Thundercracker glared at the youngster, slightly offended by the obvious criticism in his voice. How could he explain it to him, if the youngling didn't get it from Starscream's explanations? – "He is our Commander, our Lord. We all swore allegiance to him. How could we disobey him? Sometimes discipline is necessary, even if we don't personally like it."

"But this is not discipline…! This is unfair to blame one for what was not his fault! And beating…"

"Maybe so. But simple troops, common soldiers can get over a defeat easier if there is one named guilty – because it means the fault that led to the defeat was identified and it can be corrected. If you say that 'ahh, all sorts of things went wrong and they can do so any time' then soldiers will loose confidence and an army cannot allow that."

Blackfoot stared at the Seeker, following the logic easily, accepting its conclusion, but appalled to his spark by the callousness of it. He saw that Thundercracker wasn't entirely comfortable with it either; the big Seeker obviously believed in what he said – but all the same it was his Trine leader and friend who got the blame this time, the punishment, and consequently he was more than a bit shaken too. The attitude that he'd always known was so much easier to accept when it was any of the other lieutenants getting the short end of the stick. They stared at each other for a few more kliks, each deep in his own thoughts, feeling the darker sides of the war on their own plating, on friends and family.

"I can't dispute the truth of that… but the Autobot army seems to work without this practice, so I guess there are other ways."

"I'm sure there are. We are warriors, while Autobots were mostly civilians before the war. We do work differently."

Blackfoot mumbled something along the lines of rather staying a civilian then under his vent, but aloud he asked a different matter – or so he thought.

"I hope Skywarp is all right… why is he unavailable? Patrol?"

Thundercracker looked at him with unfathomable red optics for a few, uncomfortable kliks before answering. Blackfoot knew that the two of them were closer to each other than Decepticons usually were, closer even than being just Trine-mates – and was suddenly afraid that his question had a similarly awful answer to it than the topic they've just dropped. Unfortunately, his suspicion proved to be true…

"He is all right… but not on patrol. He is in the brig."

"Wha…what did he do?"

"We are not supposed to help each other in the battlefield. If you fall, you are on your own. If you make it back to the base fine, but nobody is supposed to help you. Warp helped Star to come back and he got off easy with only some brig-time."

"That's outrageous!

"That's the way we operate."

"But… but the injured can be fixed – and fight in the next battle. Why is it good to let them die?"

"If they are strong enough to go back to the base, they're worth the material and work to be fixed. If not…"

"I do wonder if your Commander would think the same if it was him injured so… or it can never happen?"

"Megatron… he is more important than any of us for the cause. I'm sure Autobots would save your Prime too."

"As far as I know, yes. First. But then the rest of the injured too…"

"Look, I'm not saying we don't do it for each other ever. Sometimes. Gestalts save their injured, because they are brothers. Trines usually do the same too."

"Then why is it considered wrong…?"

Thundercracker had no answer to it, not when he thought it over. In reality, most of the Decepticon soldiers belonged to a subgroup, a unit that acted almost brotherly among the members and certainly he observed many saving their fellow mechs from the battlefield for various reasons – certainly not all of them sentimental. They were usually ridiculed out loud and got a few orns in the brig – but everyone knew that it was a common practice, no matter the official policy. And Megatron… well, they'd certainly bring him back if he ever got that injured. So, exactly why they had this policy in effect?

"I don't have an answer for you…"

"Maybe because there is no good answer for that."

"Maybe." – Thundercracker looked at the youngling thoughtfully. He could almost see Starscream in him, which was really strange, because of the grounder chassis; but the way he talked and argued, those flicks of his digits, so unlike Star's claws but moving the same way – yes, in those small details he was like the blue Seeker's Trine leader. It was the first time he had the opportunity to talk to the youngling and although he had his reservations, the kid came through as intelligent and lively, questioning authority and established routines the same way as Starscream. He was glad in a way that he could see it finally, even though it meant somewhat worse circumstances than he would've wanted. But he could quite clearly observe what captivated both his wingmates, besides the obvious familial ties. The youngling was worth getting to know and accept all the dangers that such a connection meant for them all. Their short meeting maybe put more questions in the youngster's processor than he came with – but at least he could be sure that his Sire survived both the battle and its aftermath.

* * *

><p><strong>Troubles<strong>

"Get lost glitch!" – and a strong, almost painful push jarred his spoiler that made Blackfoot lose balance and lurch into the mech in front of him, one of the new soldiers on the base.

"Watch it kid!"

"Sorry… I was pushed." – Blackfoot apologized the mech while turning back to see who was it – although from the sneering voice it was more than likely to be his newest enemy. Seeing the bigger mech behind, flame decal on his chest, a nasty sneer on his handsome face, Blackfoot knew that his suspicion was right.

"Stop pushing me." – he kept his temper in check with some difficulty but he didn't want any trouble.

"Get to the end of the queue then, Con." – came the disdainful answer and another push, to the front this time. Blackfoot expected it though and stood his ground, swiping the offending servo away from him, not letting the jerk having his way easily. For all his bragging, Hot Rod didn't seem to be a particularly agile or adept mech and Blackfoot, regularly trained by Sunstreaker could easily counter his amateur move.

"Get lost yourself. I have as much right to be here as you."

"Gee, you are not even an Autobot… I'm surprised mechs can stand a Con here. You should shut up and not be conspicuous or someone won't be merciful with you."

"I'm not a Con."

"Sure… you got some to believe you, but…"

"Roddy, stuff it." – Sideswipe was annoyed by the sometimes obnoxious mech, especially when he saw fit to nag Blackfoot. They told him many times to leave the youngling alone if he didn't like him, they told him that he was their friend and would remain so – but Hot Rod was a master of letting unwanted information go through his processor without having any effect on it. Once he had an opinion about something it was more or less final.

"I can't believe that you can stand this twit."

"I can't believe anyone can stand your continuous bragging either." – Blackfoot wasn't letting the mech get away with calling him names.

"Shut up glitch! I have done enough so it is not bragging!"

"Sure. Saved your own spoiler from the Cons a hundred times I hear and managed one straight shot in a dozen battles? – Sideswipe too was snickering at that, while the three of them stood in the queue for the energon dispenser, along with some more soldiers who heard the exchange. A mech added a snarky comment to his, another one a snide remark about an overlarge vocalizer and Hot Rod knew that the general mood around wasn't beside him.

"I'll get you for this, slagger!" – predictably he was not amused; ostensibly he had a sense of humor, but he was far more vain to show it when he was ridiculed. Getting his energon at last he disappeared from the common room with one of the new mechs whom he seemed to have known from before. Nobody missed his loud, boisterous voice and general argumentativeness.

-o-o-o-

Blackfoot came online with a rare processor-ache, for a few kliks wondering where he was and why it was so dark, since his internal clock didn't indicate night cycle yet. He tried to call up the lights but they didn't respond and when he sat up he banged one end of the spoiler painfully into a wall – a wall that shouldn't have been there. He had plenty of clearance on his berth, exactly to avoid a situation like this; Prowl, with his sensitive doorwings understood perfectly this need. Massaging the aching appendage, wishing he could reach the wing underneath too, he tried to get off the berth, only to find that he was in fact on the ground somewhere. That woke him up fully, even to push the processor-ache into the background. It was somewhere small, he realized as moving to the other side he promptly bumped the other side of his spoiler into another wall, yelping in the process as it was twinging painfully from both sides.

A shudder run over his chassis along with some memories that he'd rather not remembered, but the small space brought them to the front – the storage closet that he used to spend so much time in to hide from anything worse… a quick sensory ping from his wings and he 'saw' the place in full; it was as he thought a storage closet, large enough to stand up but hardly to turn around. The back wall had shelving and some cases, boxes and bundles of probably spares and assorted parts in them. A light strip should have been overhead, but it was either missing or malfunctioning. The door… well, a quick examination revealed that the locking mechanism was from the outside, like on all supply closets, the doors programmed not to close while someone was inside. It should have been open then, and since it wasn't, Blackfoot was fairly sure that it was intentionally so – a door malfunctioning was certainly possible, just not under the already suspicious circumstances.

That led to another thought, as Blackfoot tried to comm Sideswipe, then as the red warrior didn't answer, to Sunstreaker and then to Prowl, only to discover that his comm was probably blocked somehow. It worked, he sensed the device trying to connect to the system but unable to do so; either the closet was one of the few shielded ones, or this, too was intentional. He tended to suspect that it was the latter and the reason for that was that he didn't remember getting into the closet on his own volition. But he did remember accepting an energon treat from a mech offering it freely in the common room… well, he was usually more suspicious to do so, but the mechs around the table were eating the goodies themselves so he didn't think that it would be dangerous and it felt marvelous after the training he had just come from. He thanked the mech and ate the treat on his way to the observation deck… and that was about as far as the clearer images of his memory went. Flickers only afterwards, of light, darkness, pulling and something clanging… nothing useful though.

The circumstances cleared as much as they could be, Blackfoot returned to the door, to see if he could open it from the inside, either with force or some kind of a tool. A few breems of examination and checking the boxes on the shelves yielded no useful tools or ideas; the door itself closed near seamlessly, making it next to impossible to force it open and he was starting to get annoyed. If nothing happened, Prowl would be looking for him in a few joors at most; these orns the tactician gave almost complete freedom for the youngling during the light cycles, only required him to get back to their quarters for the dark joors, for recharge and he never stayed out late. Of course, the twins might want to find him even earlier, but they didn't have access for the base security sensors that could tell any mechs' location at any time.

As pranks went, it was of poor quality, the youngling thought ponderingly, locking someone into a closet was fun only if the person was somehow tricked into it, not drugged and offline – drugs weren't really normal tools in pranking anyway, they were restricted materials and could get one into real trouble if discovered using them. Especially with Ratchet who was sensitive about his chemicals used without expertise and permission. Already bored and resigned to spend at least a few joors in the small space, Blackfoot checked his subspace pockets for a datapad at least to pass the time, but he was not lucky there either; before going to the training he left all his current reading in the room. He had a small puzzle cube that he kept with him more for nostalgia than any value; it was a logic puzzle and his servos started spinning it without having to see its sides. The only problem was that it occupied very little of his available processor power, leaving him almost as bored as before.

He was musing about what Thundercracker told him last time, along with what his Sire related earlier, when he started to feel a bit… uncomfortable somehow. In fact it was the thoughts that started to become jumpy, tumbling unusually incoherently, quite unlike how his processor usually worked. Then he noticed his wing sensors pinging more and more often, even though he wasn't consciously running a sensor sweep, since it was unnecessary in the enclosed space that didn't change. It was as though his sensors acted on their own and it was the strangest feeling he'd experienced for quite some time, if not ever. His wings started to feel as though they wanted to shed the constraining spoiler, twinging and twitching under the plating, their data-stream slowly approaching the painful level.

Surely it wasn't time for the upgrade yet, he thought a bit panicked, the last check-up was only two orns ago, it should have more signs before. And even if it was, these could only be the very first signs and he'd have plenty of time to get out of the closet and in time to the med-bay. Blackfoot tried to calm himself, ignoring the strange feelings as much as he could while on some level still being aware of them. In time he became convinced that it wasn't what he'd thought, because the queer, almost painful feeling didn't spread into his whole chassis, only remained in the wings. Ohh, and his servos, he realized, when he noticed the puzzle cube that was hopelessly messed up in his twitching digits. What was going on?

Blackfoot, despite of his calm nature started to become apprehensive, because he wasn't used to not understanding things around him, especially himself. Suddenly he became more aware of the darkness of the storage closet that only got faintly tinted by the red light of his optics. The light wasn't enough to light up the wall in front of him, hardly strong enough even to see its reflection on his plating as he lifted a servo in front of his face - but it gave a strange, queer, unwelcome tint to the blackness that unnerved him greatly. Blackfoot vented hard, nervously, not understanding what was happening to him. Closing his optics made the situation no better – in fact it made his imagination take flight and flood his processor with disturbing imagery.

In his processor he saw the walls move inwards and no matter how his audials insisted that it would involve sound too, therefore it wasn't, couldn't be true, he still had to open his optics and touch the walls around him, leaning his servos on the surfaces, anxiously checking their unmoving solidity. It gave him back a breem of calmness but then he felt something move behind him, the ghost of the movement pinging his oversensitive, overworked wing sensors. Mindful of the constricting walls, Blackfoot cautiously turned around and tried to catch whatever it was with his servos waving into the unforgiving darkness, cursing softly when one of them hit the wall. He didn't even realize that his tensed-up meta stopped analyzing the sensation for its probability and cause and was entirely concerned about its likely threatening effect.

The frenzied waving didn't result in anything solid but it didn't calm him down either as he again felt the movement from behind. This time he turned faster, more carelessly, earning a bump into the wall with the spoiler, but hardly registering it beside the mysterious phenomena that his processor rated as possibly more dangerous. He started to think that it was the darkness itself moving around him, not even considering the ridiculousness of such notion. His sensors were working to their full power, unseeing optics franticly rowing around in the darkness, roaring fans trying to cool his careening, warming systems. Panic set in full as the youngling found nothing around him while his processor treacherously insisted on things unimaginable closing in on him, wanting to consume him.

Then the walls again felt like moving closer, pressing down on him too. He hardly realized the first whimpers falling from his vocalizer, the sounds slowly strengthening to loud keening. His processor registered on a separate level the damage in the servos that were raining blows on the door in an attempt to break free and the spoiler with the wings underneath crashing into the walls as he struggled. The conscious thoughts were mostly gone, giving way to instincts buried deep in the grounder frame, brought to the surface by the growing wings and the awakening Seeker programming.

No flier existed on Cybertron who would be comfortable in an enclosed, small, dark place for any length of time. Not even a lot who could stand it when must, for however strong reasons after long training. Blackfoot, a youngling, experiencing the claustrophobic reaction in full strength for the first time stood no chance against it. He was very lucky that a mech came down to the little used corridor and heard the noise, the cries and the hits on the door shortly after it started. Not that he felt lucky by this time, only registering the light in the opening door and running as soon as he could, not knowing or caring where, only away from the dark, small place, automatism leading his running steps to his favourite place unconsciously. The mech recognized the youngling and was considerate enough to comm Prowl about the strong reaction; together they found Blackfoot on the observation deck, still shaking and whimpering but looking out of the huge windows, over the cityscape with optics that seemed to fight to regain control.

By the time they coaxed the shuddering, mumbling youngster into the med-bay, he calmed down considerably; apparently the unobstructed view of the city and the sky and Prowl's presence was enough to anchor his panicked mind somewhat from its waking nightmares. As Ratchet was patching up the almost ruined servos and the dents on his frame, growling about inconsiderate and cruel pranksters, Prowl was able to ask him some questions and he answered more or less intelligibly. He couldn't name the mech who gave him the energon treat, and he saw no other while drugged, so the real culprit was going to be hard to find. Not that Blackfoot had any doubts, but he learned enough not to accuse any mech without a good reason – but he swore to himself that he'd find proof before going into recharge induced this time by Ratchet's medication.


	6. Chapter 6

****Note**: **I use youngling as officially underage mechling ('kid'), while youngster as a young adult ('teenager') that covers some time before and after getting the last frame. Also, Starscream calls Blackfoot Seekerling, which basically means a kid but a young Seeker too, until he is trained - Seekers define adulthood somewhat differently.

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 6.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>War<strong>

It took orns for Blackfoot to even try to act normal – and a lot longer to more or less forget the panic attack that introduced him to the darker side of being a Seeker. He spent the first orn after the traumatic experience in the med-bay that was the biggest single space he could recharge in, with Prowl sitting beside the berth and talking softly to him. Still, he shuddered every few breems, with almost constant sensory sweeps to reassure himself of the space around; and he couldn't recharge uninterrupted because of the flashbacks and memory purges. After that Ratchet gave him sedatives for the night cycles and told him to go out and spend his light cycles fully outside before he could handle being in the base comfortably again. Prowl was with him as much as he could beside his own work and when he couldn't, he asked Sideswipe to accompany the youngling, who unashamedly admitted that he couldn't handle being alone just yet.

Together they drove long, lazy circles around in the town, wandered and talked among the still busy shops of the business quarter and played like sparklings among the ruins of the abandoned parts of the city. Blackfoot was still jumpy at first but the normalcy, the open air and Sideswipe's nonchalant jokes slowly smoothed out his tightly clenched field and the nervously whirring processor. He firmly refused to even enter the sweet-shop that the red warrior invited him in for an energon treat – it took Sideswipe a few breems to elicit the reason for it and realize that the kid probably wouldn't accept one such thing from anyone for a good while.

For a while they both avoided mentioning the possible culprit for the badly ended prank, although both of them had a fairly good idea as to who it was. The twins were both outraged by the inconsiderate action, even though no mech, not even they knew about the youngling's claustrophobia; but they still decided that Hot Rod should get the prank paid back to him with interest on general terms, as soon as Blackfoot was all right. But, as Sideswipe thought, once the youngling got better, he'd surely want to be part of that payback too. Blackfoot, for his part thought the same thing, albeit he wasn't at all in a hurry to exact the revenge – he knew that the twins were definitely on his side this time, shedding the obnoxious Hot Rod from their little circle and telling him off quite rudely when the mech tried to approach them one evening in the rec room.

"I didn't know you had the claustrophobia this bad." – Sunstreaker as usual didn't mince words and the moment Ratchet told them that Blackfoot was over it sufficiently to talk he used the opportunity. – "You told us that back in that mountain base you hid in a storage room often."

"Yeah… I didn't know it either. Back then I had no problems with it; although that closet was bigger, it had light... and I could get out whenever I wanted to."

"I suppose that made all the difference…"

"Partly… I think. But the flier programming is also at fault – it started to get noticeable."

"That means you'll be upgraded soon, right?"

"Yes… that's why I get a check-up every other orn. I hate it."

"Still, it was not a prank. More like sheer cruelty." – Sideswipe, the acknowledged prankster of the base, if not the whole army, played many pranks on many mechs – but he always did it for fun, and usually even the victim found it so after the first surprise. The line between a funny and a humiliating prank was a fine one, he knew, and he only overstepped it when he thought that a mech really deserved a lesson in humility; and after the last few orns' happenings, Hot Rod was firmly relegated into that category. The mech seemed to be all right at first, even funny with his sparklinglike boasting, but lately he showed all the bad attitudes that they both hated – prejudice was something they too were familiar with. It wasn't even just about Blackfoot, although that was the last wire off the bunch, but the flame coloured mech was conceited without a solid base for it, prejudiced in the worst way, by having no reason or arguments for it, only what he parroted from others and inconsiderate towards all other mechs around him. I short, an obnoxious twit. Grinning slightly, Sideswipe wondered whether they could open the mech's optics to what he looked like to others or he was a lost case.

-o-o-o-

Hot Rod was pleased with himself and satisfied with his situation; sitting in the common room, he was, as usual regaling his audience with his valiant efforts in the last battle. Only problem was that the story started to get old and he'd soon need something else to keep up his cool image. He decided to boast with his latest prank, the one that he used to put the slagging red-opticked youngster to his place. He didn't notice the mechs unobtrusively drawing away from him and leave one by one – he never noticed any reaction that could have been called negative. He continued with the story, laughing at the kid's cowardly reaction to it, not noticing still that he was the only one to do so - until he heard a seriously dry, clipped voice coming from behind.

"Hot Rod. Follow me into my office."

He turned and saw the rarely seen tactician, SIC for the Iacon base standing there, awaiting him to react. By this time every mech who used to be around disappeared and he frowned at the empty table – slaggers abandoned him to the officer instead of warning him to stop. The mech, according to the rumours was a stickler to regulations and hated pranks – Hot Rod considered unfortunate that his story was heard by him too, but he thought no more of it. While he followed the mech out of the common room, telling him that it was a harmless prank only and the kid deserved it anyway, he didn't even suspect that he was digging himself deeper into the pit he created. In the office, he got a long and boring lecture about regulations existing for a reason and needless pranks harming unfortunate victims that he mostly let fly by his audials. At the end though the fragger gave him three orns worth of brig time, along with double shifts for even longer – he was unpleasantly surprised by the harsh punishment. Sulking, he stomped down to the brig, where the mech on duty locked him into a cell.

"Mech, you are really an idiot." – was his remark after he got the news through his comm line; and Hot Rod asked back, still pouting.

"What the frag do you mean?"

"Had to play a prank on Blackfoot, right? Had to brag about it in the presence of his caretaker, right?"

"The glitch deserved it. Who is his caretaker?" – He'd have to be careful in the future about the mech, whoever he was.

"The one who sent you here… Prowl."

"What? Slag." – he couldn't be so unlucky. The Con spawn was the charge of the Autobot SIC? More than that… not just an unwanted charge, but he understood that the officer was really pissed off by Hot Rod pulling a prank on his kid. Maybe he should have listened a bit more of what the twins said about the fragging youngster.

"Mech, you really stepped on a lot of pedes in a miraculously short time. Of all the minibots you up and insulted the spec ops one, then told off the CMO after stealing his drugs which is always a bad idea, and now got Prowl against you... is it a special talent of you?"

"Frag off… which minibot is spec ops? That yellow bug?"

"Exactly. You are lucky he is not the type to keep grievances."

"Then I don't care."

"Ohh… I think you will. Spec ops are a tightly knit bunch. Bumblebee might let you get away with it… but the rest of them won't forget it in a hurry."

-o-o-o-

When Hot Rod first got covered with lurid green paint in the wash racks instead of the expected solvent coming out of the showerhead, he suspected Sideswipe as the perpetrator and thought nothing more of it – besides cursing the red warrior for a while. He was still doing double shifts – it really didn't pay to piss off officers, he thought - and it meant he barely had time to get enough recharge and refuel, and none to make up and execute pranks in revenge. The next time he was glued to his berth and painted all over with rude glyphs and being late from his shift, he had to sit in front of the monitors with those still on. The other two other mechs in the control room laughed at him for four endlessly long joors and took captures that they spread all over the base; he basically hid from everyone for the next few orns and started to do a paranoid check of his surroundings all the time.

The fragging glyphs only cleaned off by a strong solvent that made a mess of his own paint too and Sunstreaker, he was sure gave him deliberately the wrong shades of paints that made his bright red a tired brownish hue that clashed horribly with the pinkish orange of the flames. When confronted, the twins were outright inimical, defending the youngling like he was to be the next Prime, neither even acknowledging his words that he didn't know about the claustrophobia the kid had. Sunstreaker freaked him out considerably growling with killer optics while calling him a prejudiced fragger who should be thrown among crazed Seekers. He actually sounded like he meant it.

The paranoia unfortunately didn't save him from eating an energon treat that contained a sly little program getting into his processor that caused him to purge in the most embarrassing situations - and for which the CMO, Ratchet seemed to be slagging slow to find a cure. Also, he was sure that the invisible mech, called Mirage or something was deliberately getting in front of him a dozen times an orn and phase back when he couldn't avoid stumbling over him and falling. He got dents in places he never had them before. Another smallish, lithe mech unnerved him to no end when he sat in the rec room, alone for some time, and the fragger sat opposite to him at the table, spread an assortment of vicious blades on it and started to meticulously clean each of them – while staring at him with ghostly white optics that were eerily creepy. He learned some time later that they were both spec ops mechs and shuddered slightly, avoiding the yellow bug completely from then on.

But the last straw was when on onlining one orn he found all his belongings glued to the ceiling with a material so strong that he simply couldn't find a solvent for getting them off; and everyone in the labs whom he asked just shrugged and told him that they'd look into the problem when they had the time. He understood it when the slagging red-opticked youngster walked into the lab while he was there and was greeted by enthusiastic hellos from the resident scientists, like he belonged there. The fragging kid ignored him completely too.

Hot Rod was expert in being totally oblivious to how mech expressed opinion that he didn't agree with, but the whole slew of events came just far too thick to completely ignore. Grudgingly he was forced to think about the number of mechs getting to the youngster's defense and willing to enact revenge for him. Whatever he still thought of him, apparently it didn't pay to antagonize them and lose his audience and admirers. As for the others… well, he might have acted too fast, without being aware of the standings of some mechs on the base. He'd be more careful in the future, gather more info about the mechs and maybe for a while withdraw a bit more until the present problems were forgotten.

Somehow, he thought, Ironhide never got into such troubles in the other base when he cursed the Cons to the Pit or got rough with the prisoners. Sure, some mechs disliked that as well, but there were plenty others who did the same thing –maybe one has to be an officer to do this without repercussions. Somehow, the Cons were just convenient outlets for one's anger and frustration and he never questioned that role, never thought of the Autobot code in connection with it. Red optics equaled sly, treacherous, deceptive and ruthless mechs who, for awhile visited his town, enjoyed the energon bars and the shops there – and at the end they destroyed his former home completely. He'd known that it wasn't that simple, but he buried that little thought over the vorns while he became an Autobot with a vengeance.

-o-o-o-

Blackfoot for his part was quite satisfied with how things turned out. Although he still had some memory purges during recharge, but once online he could handle being inside the base without problems. The twins kept him entertained with the misadventures of Hot Rod, both that they caused and what the fragger got from others – Jazz was turning a blind visor towards his division's antics and the spec ops mechs knew not to go too far, only embarrass and harass, never really harm their target. Prowl frowned a bit on the increased number of pranks but he gave only the lightest of punishment to the twins who for once didn't deny being the culprit in most of them. Ratchet acted completely nonchalant, but it didn't deceive anyone and mechs almost felt sorry when it was time for the flame-painted mech's medical check-ups. Almost. Blackfoot wasn't even sure he wanted to add his own plans to the seemingly all-out war – the mech seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown, self-confidence almost gone, bragging stopped completely and he seemed to have acquired paranoid tendencies.

But when he heard the mech one orn talking with his remaining friends Blackfoot realized that he still blamed everyone else and had no inclination of admitting that maybe he was wrong. It was time to deal the last blow, the coup de grace and if he still didn't understand how things were then he was unsalvageable. For once Blackfoot calmed down to think rationally, like he was usually able to do so, he saw that the young mech was not innately bad, not like Powerdash who'd enjoyed tormenting him; he was prejudiced but without any personal conviction, blindly repeating what others, probably elder mechs told him and probably never in his life met, much less talked a real Decepticon. Battles didn't count.

But he still hesitated. Blackfoot was not by nature a vengeful mech and Hot Rod had quite a lot of payback coming his way lately. No matter how prejudiced, slagging glitch the mech was, it felt almost unfair to heap more on him… he might break the wrong way, throwing his remaining decency into the winds and become an utter fragger. He didn't want to cause _that_ to anyone. He confided in Prowl about his doubts and the tactician agreed with him that Hot Rod, while plenty obnoxious and vainglorious, wasn't totally rusted in the inside and deserved a chance to redeem himself. They just didn't know how to go about it.

* * *

><p><strong>Coincidence<strong>

The alarm wailed in the long corridors of the Iacon base, echoed in the rooms and quarters, starting off a frenzy of activity that at first sight looked like sheer chaos, but in which every mech knew their places and tasks. The sound was one that not many of them expected, signaling an attack in the city itself instead of one on the base; and those who were near lookout points saw the dark clouds of smoke rising from amongst the buildings of Iacon. Blackfoot, in the observation deck could identify the exact points of the explosions; three in the busy market sector and one each in the residential quarter and the gardens. Even as he ran to the common room, where the noncombatants gathered, his processor told him what that meant: the attack targeted civilian mechs, neither military nor even the industry, clearly attempting to frighten away the remaining neutrals. In effect, it was a terrorist attack, even if Decepticons were the culprits; such acts were never part of a war that was in theory fought between armies or at least supporting structures like industry.

By the time he got to the rec room Prowl was already there, informing the base non-enlisted personnel about the explosions and the civilian authorities' plea for volunteers to help. He couldn't send the soldiers out, not while another attack on the base was likely after the diversionary one on the city, only some who wouldn't compromise the defenses. But the mechs in the room all volunteered and he sent them in groups to help out the search and rescue – all of them had either relatives or friends outside and wanted to help.

"No, Blackfoot. You are underage. I can't let you go out there."

"But Prowl, Ratchet approved me on basic first aid and my extra sensors could find mechs under the rubble! And I hardly have any time before I'm an adult anyway."

Prowl looked uncharacteristically indecisive for a klik, doorwings quivering hesitantly, before acquiescing to the argument. It wouldn't be more dangerous for the youngster to be out there than in the base and Blackfoot never shied away from work or helping out somewhere.

"I still can't let you go… alone."

"Sunny and Sides?"

"They have to remain here. You can go with Wheeljack, he is not needed in defense. But stay with him!"

"I will."

The city was in chaos. The explosions in the busiest part of the town destroyed and deactivated many of the civilian authorities, disrupted the organizations for dealing with exactly this kind of an attack and deactivated or injured a great number of mechs who'd be in the first line of search and rescue. The attack was obviously calculated to cause the most damage and dead, probably to unnerve even more of the remaining civilians and neutrals from supporting the Autobot's cause. As Prowl and some more of the officers thought, it might even have been an answer of sorts to their latest advances; in typical Decepticon fashion striking not straight at them, but in a place equally painful for all of them. For Iacon has always been an Autobot city, connected to the army and its soldiers with a myriad ties from the personal level to the necessary industrial background.

Blackfoot and Wheeljack hardly spoke more than it was absolutely necessary while they worked, combing through the collapsed buildings for spark-signs that would mean survivors. They worked well together, Blackfoot's sensitive wing sensors able to find the faintest traces of mechs still online and with Wheeljack's strength they were able to clear away the rubble that covered the survivors. Since both of them knew first aid too, they managed to save a dozen mechs in the first joor and transport them to the newly established hospitals in stable condition. It made the grisly work a bit more bearable to find so many survivors; apparently the explosions weren't as strong as they seemed at first and there were more injured but functioning survivors than deactivated mechs under the collapsed buildings.

As they moved on to yet another fallen building, an energon bar by its broken sign, Blackfoot caught many spark-signs, probably the patrons trapped underneath the rubble. They quickly moved several fallen and broken roof-sections away and started to rescue the mechs from the building, tending to them whenever it was needed. By this time the youngling was over the first queasy breems of seeing so much spilled energon and broken limbs; he had to admit to himself that seeing it - and more importantly working with it - was quite different than doing first aid in the neutral and clean surroundings in the med-bay under the observing optics of Ratchet. Wheeljack was a great help in this, as he was long used to seeing injured mechs, including himself, and his calm manner helped a lot to Blackfoot to keep his nerve.

"I have to transport this mech to the med center, his injuries need a real medic right now. Will you be all right?" – Wheeljack would have preferred the youngling to come with him but the ruins still had someone underneath and Blackfoot was working on that.

"I'll stay here while you are gone."

Blackfoot continued to remove the artfully crumpled metallic sheets that someone thought to be a good decoration for this part of the bar, but they were a nuisance to pull off and interfered with his scans. He thought that he got one more spark sign but couldn't be sure with the broken signal, so he had to remove the slagging sheets to see more clearly. Tearing off another one from its place, lodged between two beams, he peered into the hole to see if anyone moved underneath. The sight that he saw got him to pause for a klik, red optics blinking slowly, wondering about Primus, justice, fate and all that slag, before continuing to clear away the collapsed structure with a bemused expression. If he saw it right, the mech down there, with the red-orange plating and the all-too-familiar flame decal was Hot Rod. Terrific.

Blackfoot didn't for one klik consider abandoning the mech, but as he worked his way down, he couldn't help but wonder about the strange coincidences of life. After all, how likely was it to find his foe completely in his mercy? To the youngling it was clear that if he left the mech there, no one else would've noticed his spark-sign before the ruins were cleared away sometime in the future, by which time he would probably be dead from energon loss. Still, it wasn't just mercy that compelled him to clear away the rubble, pull him out and start patching up a torn fuel lines. Rather the opposite, Blackfoot tried to think of the mech as just one more of the unknown, unnamed ones he saved that orn already. He didn't want anything to complicate the already tangled situation and secretly he was glad that the warrior resolutely remained offline.

When Wheeljack came back, the youngling saw him also recognizing the mech, but the inventor didn't say a word either; and after a look at Blackfoot he stayed silent on the matter. Together they took the not seriously injured Hot Rod to the nearest hospital and entrusted his further well-being to the local staff, returning to their rescue task afterwards, until a few joors later a harried but grateful official declared that all the affected areas were combed for living and thanking warmly the volunteers, sent them to their well-earned rests.

Back to the base, Blackfoot was glad to be able to wash away all the dirt and dried energon from his plating at last. It felt… frightening to be covered with what he knew to be other mechs' life fluids and he firmly decided that despite of his interest and ability in the field, he wouldn't want to be a medic. While it was good to be able to help mechs and give them a chance to live some more, and it made him feel more important, worthy somehow; but he knew that the one deactivated mech he found, his forever open, silently screaming mouth and dark optics, the cold, grey plating and the congealed energon in which he lay would haunt him for some time, giving him even more nightmares.

He didn't know how the soldiers managed it, knowing that they caused the deactivation. He wasn't even sure that he would dare to ask any of them about it, maybe not even Sire. He was afraid to hear how they could possibly get used to such a sight or ignore it so completely as to not to be disturbed by it. Or was it possible that they were only better at hiding their reaction?

* * *

><p><strong>Oath<strong>

"You are unusually quiet. Has anything happened during the rescue work?"

"I found a deactivated mech… and I keep seeing him."

"It was the first time, I take it." – Prowl didn't ask, as it was obvious from the youngling's reaction, only waited what he wanted to reveal without nudging.

"It is… I might have seen more when the village was destroyed but then I was running and didn't stop to watch."

"How does it disturb you? Frightens you or disgusts?"

"I… I can't help thinking who he was. I mean… I don't know his designation, but he must have had one, maybe a family and friends, a job, a hobby… things like that. It… yes it frightens me a little too…" – he finished it in a small voice, almost like ashamed of being weak and frightened of a dead mech.

"Blackfoot… it is wrong when one can watch a dead mech and **not** be upset. It is natural to feel involved; after all, even if he wasn't familiar, he was a fellow Cybertronian and Primus knows how few we are after so much warring. Also… it is not in the very least disturbing that it frightens you a little. You had too many losses in your life and too little that you still have; in every dead mech you fear those, close to you – most importantly your Sire. Especially now, after that case with Hot Rod."

Prowl noted the youngling's little twitch at the name and wondered if there were some new developments in their relationship. After the badly ended prank he was keeping more attention on both of them, but it seemed that the youngling was so far content on forgetting that the mech ever existed, while Hot Rod was plenty busy with the aftermath of his actions and the revenge that various mechs enacted on him. Their discussion a few orns before showed a rare maturity in Blackfoot, who was willing to let his revenge go, because he felt that others, especially the twins did more than enough in his name and didn't want to push the flame-coloured mech too far.

-o-o-o-

Starscream sighed slowly through his vents, fresh welds still a bit stiff and sore as he transformed to land. He even contemplated not to come and send one of his wingmates again to meet Blackfoot – but Thundercracker told him in no uncertain terms that the youngling needed to see him; both to ascertain that he was all right and because he asked some quite disturbing questions that needed answers. The blue Seeker also told him that after he gave those answers to the youngling he, too would want to hear them – and while he said that the jet looked positively… disturbed. Starscream never before has seen his usually calm wingmate so strangely out of sorts before.

Blackfoot was already there, waiting for him with happiness glinting in his optics as he saw his Sire approaching, and hugged him as soon as he got close enough. From up close Starscream perceived the worry and concern emanating from him through the creator bond and it warmed his spark, just like the hug that he returned still a bit hesitantly, still not used to so much touching. He sent reassurance and love back and watched the youngling squirm happily in the embrace before turning serious and speaking up.

"I heard what happened… in the battle and after. I was so worried…"

"It takes more to deactivate me. Crashing is never fun but we learn to do that the same way you learn how to fall when your opponent throws you during sparring. There are ways to minimize the damage."

"I was still worried. The mech who did it told it in a way, I couldn't be sure of your fate."

"I'm Air Commander for a reason, Blackfoot. It is not that easy to overcome me." – Starscream wasn't sure whether to be touched by the youngling's worry or feel insulted that he thought he could be deactivated that easily. In either case he wanted a change in the topic. – "When you get your wings I'll show you everything… and teach you to them. It shouldn't be that far, right?"

"No… Ratchet said a groon at most. I noticed the Seeker programming awakening already."

That was good news as far as Starscream was concerned. Even the growing wings were not a hundred percent assurance that a mixed parentage youngling would turn out to be a Seeker – if the necessary programming was not there as well, he could still be a flier, just not a good one, and never a Seeker, who were the elite class among all the winged Cybertronians.

"How so?"

"Uhh… someone played a prank and locked me into a storage closet. I… "- he was obviously not comfortable with the story, squirming and shaking slightly. – "I got a panic attack from claustrophobia."

Starscream was scowling sympathetically, as claustrophobia was one of the worst things a Seeker and most fliers had to deal with. He was also angered by the Autobot who dared to pull this so-called prank on his youngling, optics flashing as he contemplated meeting the mech in the next battle.

"Who was it? Not the warrior twins…?" – they seemed friendlier to Blackfoot than doing such a thing but one could never knew.

"No… a new mech. He didn't know how it would affect me… actually, nobody knew, not even me. It took us all by surprise. The twins helped paying back the prank to him." – he smirked a bit in a way it was very familiar to the Seeker. Even though he was milder and softer, there were some instances when he saw his own harsher nature appearing through the cracks.

"There are better ways to awaken one's flier protocols… I'm sorry to hear how it happened, but glad that they appeared. Your new frame is ready?"

"Yeah, they've done it. I helped too! I can hardly wait… it looks fantastic!"

"I can hardly wait to see you with it…" – even though Starscream knew that the real problems would start then, he still – maybe a bit selfishly? - wanted to see his son soaring in the sky, like a proper Seekerling. – "Is there anyone among the Autobots who can even teach you to fly?"

"The shuttles only… and some triplechangers but they aren't that good in flight."

"I'll make sure that you get proper training. You might want to consider joining us… even if it is just for that… you could be just one of the Seekers, my protégé and learn what you have to." – Starscream knew that it was a long shot and that Blackfoot would not make a good Decepticon anyway, but he could see no other way of teaching the necessary knowledge and give the needed experience to him. The idea with the shuttles… was laughable at best, awful at worst. Starscream had nothing against them, in fact he had a shuttle colleague and friend before the war, but for flying style they were almost as much different from Seekers as the rotaries. A Seekerling needed elder Seekers to learn from. – "Please, at least consider it."

"B-but if I join the Decepticons, I'd have to take an oath too… and follow orders and maybe harm or kill my friends…." – he looked distressed and Starscream couldn't really blame him; even he himself felt the conflicting loyalties, and they would be even worse for the youngster who considered a number of Autobots as friends.

"I'm the Decepticon Air Commander. I command all the Seekers and you being a Seekerling would not be taking part in actual battles until the training is finished. The other Seekers would understand it and the rest of the command wouldn't need to know about it."

"Why don't you join the Autobots? I know that you believed in the Decepticon cause – but I know how much you doubt in it lately. There you could teach me too…"

Starscream looked to the side, wings twitching nervously at the innocent question. He did contemplate the idea more than once since he found Blackfoot again. The more he saw the Autobots' actions firsthand and from his recounts, the more he felt Megatron's unfairness and tyrannical disposition and the Decepticons' painful deviation from their original tenets - the more he doubted if their cause existed at all any more. Or rather… if it paradoxically migrated over to the Autobots, who were actually quite far from what they were in the pre-war society, both in ideology and in actions, far closer to what he considered to be ideal or acceptable. Just the fact that he could trust with his son's well-being more to some Autobots than his own faction told a lot. But there were still some arguments against too; from the mistrust of many Autobots against a Decepticon deserter to the possible reactions of his Trine or a possible retaliation towards Blackfoot. And one more thing…

"Besides all the practical reasons that you already know about… I did take an oath to follow Megatron and I can't go back on it. It is not the Seeker way. I'm many things but oathbreaker won't be among them…"

He didn't understand the almost triumphant flash of crimson from the youngling's optics but it effectively stopped what he was telling. Nodding his dark helm to the side he motioned Blackfoot to tell the thing that he was obviously burning to impart.

"Optimus Prime gave me a datapad a few orns ago, about the legal system of Cybertron. I think… I guess now I understand why he did it."

"It has a bearing to our topic?" – Starscream couldn't imagine how or why. Admittedly he was no expert on laws but what laws meant these orns in the middle of a war anyway?

"Yes, it definitely has. A little know clause tells that oaths and pledges that call Primus as witness are sacred and inviolable – which means that only the Prime can annul them, acquitting the oath takers from their obligations. But he can, at his own discretion."

"What…?" – Starscream stared at the youngling, hardly noticing as his wings rose in a shocked disbelief along with his voice. That meant… that meant that he actually had a small backdoor out of his predicament – should he want to utilize it of course. But it also started his famous intelligence that couldn't help but connect facts and draw conclusions; if the Prime gave this knowledge to Blackfoot then he too knew about their relationship and even more, he foresaw this decision that either of them had to make and made sure that they had all the facts and all the possibilities clearly. It was an offer, almost a kindness to make sure that they could choose freely – instead of manipulating him or Blackfoot to ensure what would be a favorable decision for the Autobots. It… almost unnerved him.

Blackfoot was patiently awaiting for his Sire to think it over; he didn't expect him to decide right there, but gave him a supportive silence in which he could scrunch up the facts. In the meanwhile he contemplated the opposing idea; that is to join his Sire in the Decepticon army while he learned enough from him. It was risky for them both, it would be hard to be on the other side, and such side that he learned about lately – and it would more or less just postpone his decision about his future, which, and he was fairly sure of it, didn't lay with the Decepticons. But exactly the daring nature of the decision was its main allure; Blackfoot was mainly a calm, collected individual but he was not opposed to taking risks if the possible outcome was worth them. Besides what… in all honesty he has only seen one side's point of view so far and only knew about the other from his Sire and his wingmates. Not that he has ever mistrusted their words, but nothing beat a firsthand experience. He could learn a lot by being there, seeing another, harsher, more competitive way of functioning.

"Loyalty is still more than just taking an oath and a Prime saying that it is broken." – Starscream said abruptly, apparently coming to the end of his thought process. – "It is trust between mechs and believing in a cause. The oath just spells that out and confirms it for both parties."

"I understand that. But loyalty doesn't mean blind obedience to a mech. Thundercracker said last time that you swore allegiance to Megatron and so whatever he does is right. Even when it is obviously not…" – Blackfoot didn't want to spell out what happened but from Starscream's tenseness he guessed that his Sire knew what he was alluding to. – "I don't think any leader can be right all the time and expect total and unquestioning obedience. Not from thinking mechs, not even in an army."

"But armies do work on obedience and strict lines of command. In the battlefield there is no time to debate solutions or morals. Outside the battlefield it must be kept up too, or the authority is questioned and ruined."

"I understand that too. But it doesn't excuse everything. There are lines that should not be crossed. Commanding mechs is a responsibility too, is it not? Prime says so. He told that a commander must demand obedience but give fairness in return. Not to abuse his soldiers, not to act unfairly or partial to any of them." – Blackfoot knew that he was in shaky ground here as he could not speak about this topic from experience, only repeat what he learned from Prowl and the Prime. He could only hope that his Sire, a commander in reality would not dismiss his words from his own experience… but he didn't have to be worried. A sharp but approving glance from Starscream's optics signaled that he conveyed well the essence of the idea.

"You are right… that is the way we, Seekers define command. But it is not the only way. The way Megatron leads the army also one workable interpretation."

"But he weakens his own army with it! He can't be right all the time."

"Well… he believes that he is. And he is good enough so that all mechs believe him. You see Blackfoot, there are some mechs who cannot be measured by ordinary rules. They are… special, extreme, thinking and acting outside the box. The normal ways of logic and understanding doesn't work with them. You have to experience this to see what I mean. Megatron… is not an average mech; he cannot simply be understood with what psychology datapads teach you. More like... an unstoppable force of nature. You can try to understand him… just be prepared to be wrong and don't stand in his way."

Blackfoot was silent, thinking hard and trying to integrating this info into what he already knew of the Decepticon leader. It wasn't exactly new, if he thought it, Prowl has hinted as much before and he knew that most Autobots viewed Megatron similarly, even though they attached negative connotation to what Starscream told him about the mech. He had to be special to come from so low and achieve so much without education and mostly alone; even if what he did was to start a civil war that slowly consumed the planet.

The silence drew on, Sire and son sitting there, touching shoulder plates on a rusted piece of metal that might have been a garden bench vorns ago, allowing through the eons countless sires, carriers and their younglings to sit and contemplate their particular issues, talk about their problems and find solutions for them. After all, it is not just war that brings about weighty issues and hard decisions – albeit it has a way of aggravating them. When their time was up and they parted sadly, their troubles were not solved, decisions not yet made – but they were just a bit closer to both.

* * *

><p><strong>Surprise<strong>

Slagging SIC was still taking it out on him, Hot Rod just knew. He was just not used to being assigned to menial jobs like inventory of endless storage closets – and by Primus he was so sure that one of them would be closed on him in revenge, even though none of them did so far – or playing factotum for the science geeks who regularly made the lab explode in an experiment and just smirked at him when his paint job was yet again half melted or covered in soot and slag. But this latter work gave him the opportunity to find a marvelous piece of armour in one of the storage spaces; a Seeker frame for whatever reason that was collecting the rust here apparently. It started a yearning in him and he spent nights fantasizing himself in it, flying in the sky, having real wings instead of the faux ones – and waking up frustrated and angry, knowing that he would never get a flier frame. But he wondered why it was there, who it was made for – and what happened to its intended recipient that the frame remained in storage.

He made sure to do everything perfectly what the geeks told him, to regain their neutrality or even some trust that he lost by harming their darling pupil, the red-opticked youngster. He even collected his wits and sort of apologized to the youngster – after all he couldn't have known how claustrophobic he was and he intended it only as a prank. He still couldn't trust Blackfoot, not with those red optics that gave him the creeps and made him remember things he'd rather forgot; but at least he now listened more to what others said about him and found that a great number of mechs actually liked the youngling, despite of those. He couldn't imagine why, albeit he admitted himself that Blackfoot wasn't as bad as he first thought. It took him a few orns of toiling in the labs before the scientists thawed out towards him a bit so he could dare to ask Wheeljack, the most easygoing type of them about the matter in the forefront of his mind.

"I saw this flier frame in one of the storage closets. What is it for?"

"It is an upgrade frame for a flier obviously." – Wheeljack looked at him a tiny bit suspiciously but he acted as though it was none important just simple curiosity.

"I could guess that. But who is it for? I don't know many Autobot fliers."

"I can't tell it to you."

"So it's a secret… okay then." – Hot Rod acted as though it didn't matter at all but secretly he was burning to find out the juicy bit of secret that he found. – "I guess I shouldn't mention it to anyone else then, right?"

"If you can stand not spreading it…" – Wheeljack wasn't sure if the cocky warrior was capable of keeping any secrets at all and his fins flashed a hesitant turquoise shading into green - but he couldn't help it by then.

"Hey, I'm not that bad… I admit I didn't have the greatest start here, but I try to make up for it!"

"That is true… you really slackened off a bit." – Wheeljack conceded to him this much with a flash of a darker, oily green and a nod before continuing, risking a personal question to the warrior – "Would you tell me why do you hate Blackfoot so much?"

Hot Rod looked to the side nervously, fidgeting a bit as he didn't really want the conversation to turn this way and the inventor wouldn't be his first choice to confide in normally anyway. But he seriously lacked any real friends here since the twins shed him over this very issue and the scientist wasn't a rumour-spreading type… so why not?

"It is the optics…" – he murmured slightly embarrassed. He knew that it sounded like something a youngling would say not an adult mech. – "those fragging, sinister red optics."

"Blackfoot can hardly be responsible for the colour of his optics…"

"They are Con optics!"

"Yes. So?"

Hot Rod looked at Wheeljack like he was mad. – "So he is a Con!"

"Is he really? What makes a Decepticon? The optics?"

"N-no! But Cons all have them. And they mean backstabbing fraggers."

"There are quite a lot of mistakes and misbeliefs within that statement… but let's get back to Blackfoot. He inherited red optics from a Decepticon Sire. He was at first raised by a Neutral Carrier, abused by Autobots when younger and lately raised by another set of Autobots here. Since he lives with us there wasn't a single suspicion of him exhibiting backstabbing or treacherous behaviour from him and believe me, you weren't the only one or the first one to doubt him." – a new voice joined the conversation, Prowl deciding that once he accidentally heard it started, it might as well be cleared up and so hopefully finished there too. Hot Rod looked nervous in the presence of the officer but he continued. – "You may consider this as an unofficial conversation if it helps you calm down. I don't intend a lecture this time and opinion should not be punished either."

Hot Rod was a bit skeptic about that bit, but the SIC has already heard his opinion on the matter and showed no anger by the strong wording.

"Ironhide said that a lot of Autobots are naïve in this… that they trust deserters and neutrals when they shouldn't."

"Have you considered that it is maybe Ironhide holding on to suspicions – or should I call them prejudices - when he shouldn't? I mean Blackfoot is a youngster and if you knew him more you'd know that he has no Decepticon tendencies or leanings. To suspect him – or even worse ridicule him because of the colour of his optics – is serving no purpose other than alienate him from us, by proving that we are hypocrites who act differently from what we believe."

"But… but it can end in him betraying us when we don't expect."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he is a Con?"

"But he isn't."

"But his nature is…"

"Are you sure that you know his nature? Do you know him, listened to him, talked with him, argued with him and so on?"

"N-no…"

"Do you know who saved you in the last orn's explosions, when the rubble buried you so completely that no ordinary scanner even sensed your spark-pulse?" – Wheeljack decided to add his two credits too.

Hot Rod seemed confused by the seemingly sudden change of topic. – "I… I don't know."

"Blackfoot has special, very fine sensors in that spoiler and he volunteered to save mechs because of that. He found you, pulled you out and patched up your injuries all alone, on his own. Is it a Decepticon thing to do? Especially by keeping it a secret from every mechs, not bragging or taunting you with it – he could have done that, you know."

"I didn't know that either." – Prowl was surprised too but pleasantly so. If that didn't make the flame-coloured mech think about his prejudices then nothing would. But it seemed that Hot Rod too was dumbfounded by the revelation and it seriously shook up his opinion on the youngster. If it was true… then he'd have to rethink a few things and fast.

"He… did… what?"

"You heard it right. Your life was saved by the one that you call a backstabbing Con."


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **"normal speech", "_comm line_", _worry/fear:_ emotions through the bond_****  
><strong>**_

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 7<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Memories<strong>

After the revealing conversation with the officers, Hot Rod wandered in the base aimlessly, deep in his thoughts, for once not wanting to meet with any mech else. It wasn't easy to acknowledge that he had to thank his continued function to the one that he'd despised, insulted even harmed. A sudden thought came up in his processor and he tried to suppress it, ashamed of it and not wanting to face with it – which of them behaved in a more Autobot way in this whole mess…? He desperately didn't want to answer that unwanted question, not even in the privacy of his own processor. But he couldn't forget it fully, it continued to flicker and itch in the back of his meta, where he was unconsciously aware of it, whether he wanted to or not.

He didn't take full notice of where he was going and so it wasn't surprising when he ended up on the observation deck, staring out of the windows but not even recognizing the vista he was looking at. The deck was quiet as like empty at this time of the orn, but he registered a small movement at one corner; whirling automatically he faced with the mech he was trying not to think of; the youngling was quietly moving out of the big room, but stumbled into a small cleaning droid. He cast an apprehensive glance towards Hot Rod, but turned away when he saw the warrior looking at him. Before he could leave though, an unexpected voice stopped him.

"Blackfoot… please…?" – Hot Rod himself wasn't exactly sure why he stopped the youngster from leaving. He had no idea what to say next, pride, stubbornness and shame swirled around in his processor, making a mess of his thoughts. The youngster hesitated for a few kliks in the door, half a step outside already before he turned back, a resolve hardening his faceplates. A sudden, unbidden notion coalesced in Hot Rod's processor as he saw the spoiler'd back turning and the smaller form becoming visible in the backlight; their chassis actually looked almost the same. Sure he was smaller and the colours didn't match, but the shape and the spoiler made the youngster's shadow on the floor almost identical to his own. Strangely, this small similarity made it easier to start speaking. – "I heard what you did last orn." – he stared at the shadows instead of the youngster as he mumbled – "I… wanted to thank you."

"No need to thank. I did it because it was the right thing to do." – Blackfoot watched the clearly uneasy mech, who was obviously making an effort, and a hard one to say even that much. He didn't expect the flame-coloured mech to go any further just yet; so far he was glad if they settled to ignore each other completely. But Hot Rod surprised him once more.

"I... uhh… I'm sorry for the… you know, the closet…" – and he actually looked sorry, even as he was fighting his own pride and stubbornness to say so, every line of his frame tense and shouting his nervousness. – "It was mean…"

Blackfoot was impressed, despite of his misgivings still. So far the flame-coloured mech had consistently failed to show any sign of being contrite for whatever he was doing and to hear the apology was completely unexpected. He just simply didn't know how to answer to him that would show that he understood but would not irritate his pride in return.

"It's… uhh… okay. I got over it." – Blackfoot flinched slightly at the memory that was still a bit… tender, but pushed it into the back of his processor again. – "If you'd like… you could tell me what you have against Decepticons that you obviously projected on me. I'm guessing that it is personal…?"

Hot Rod was glad to have gotten over the apology – really, it wasn't so bad, as he told himself, especially as noone else heard it – but he wasn't comfortable with the idea of telling his past to him. Still, he sort of felt that he owed some explanation to the youngster.

"Cons destroyed the place my family lived. Probably them too as I never found any sign of them when I returned."

"You know, Cons destroyed my village and my Carrier too."

Hot Rod stared at Blackfoot unbelievingly. He expected some kind of a comeback but not this…

"But you… I mean your Sire… wasn't he a Decepticon?"

"He is. But me and my Carrier were Neutrals and my Sire didn't know about the attack. It… happens in a war…"

"My creators were Neutrals too and wanted me to remain the same… but I've always wanted to fight and be an Autobot warrior. So I left them, changed my designation and enlisted… and never gone back before it was too late." – he never told that to any mech before and Hot Rod was shocked by himself that he let this youngling know his deepest regrets.

"That's sad… but you see, Hot Rod? We have a lot of similarities in our past. Why would I be more Decepticon than you? Even my Sire accepted that I don't want to be a Decepticon, that I'm not cut out for that."

"You know your Sire…? How?"

"We met sometimes… and before you start accusing again, Prowl knows about it and a whole lot of other mechs also. Actually, I think they are hoping that my Sire would defect. I hope that too…"

By this time the two of them were almost comfortable in each other's presence and talked as normally as though nothing untoward has ever happened between them. They sat comfortably in the big, empty room and continued talking about more neutral topics; and Hot Rod found that once he really listened to the youngster, he wasn't so bad. He definitely listened eagerly to the stories that he told about various bases where he was stationed, mechs that he met with and fun that he sometimes had by pranking them; and if he smirked ever-so-slightly at the more obvious exaggerations, well, it was nothing.

They didn't become instant friends though, far from it. Hot Rod didn't change overnight and more often than not he was still insufferable, while Blackfoot still didn't appreciate the loud boisterousness and the crude pranks that the mech was prone to doing. They had arguments, disagreements and occasionally even loud shouting matches, once Blackfoot realized that Hot Rod had a certain mindset and there were times when those shouted insults were the only things that actually got through to him. But he was far more satisfied with how their relationship turned out to care much about those.

* * *

><p><strong>Discovered<strong>

Secrets never stay secrets for long, as it is in their nature to get out in the open to cause troubles. No matter how great lengths mechs go to protect said secrets, sooner or later they fail on a small issue, one that they thought covered – or never even dreamt of happening. Fate and coincidence is funny that way. Not that it is ever funny for those whose life goes onto the line because of it. But then, fate never cares… or has a bigger design on the tapestry of life.

Soundwave wasn't even actively scanning the processors of mechs during the battle. After all, what do they all think about in a battle but attacking, defending and generally staying alive? The ones whose processor would be interesting, the tacticians and strategists were comfortably farther away from the battlefield and out of his range. No matter what others thought – and the superior visage he was projecting about himself – his telepathy did came with serious limits in both range and the types of processors he could read. Like those unruly Seekers whose minds worked like a maelstrom, entrapping his questing scans and not giving up their secrets.

So there he was, absentmindedly coordinating the Decepticon forces, watching Megatron acting out his part with the Prime with half an optic and sweeping with an automatic long-range, low-level telepathic scan that picked up only the most surface thoughts from mechs all over. Still, it occasionally resulted in something interesting, something that he would follow up later at leisure. Like now… he focused on the red one of the Autobot twins, suddenly interested why he was thinking of sparing the wings of a Seeker – Skywarp, he recognized the black and purple shape, although the red frontliner didn't think of him personally – instead of scrapping them. The warrior twins have never before shown such compassion, in fact they were the most ferocious of the Autobots, worthy even to be Decepticons with their aggression and brutality.

Soundwave moved on the battlefield, unobtrusively getting closer to his target while staying safe from any direct attack. He could fight if he had to, but he very much preferred to use his processor rather than his blaster –the sonic cannon whose schematics he stole from Starscream and had the Constructicons build it to him. He sneered mentally at the still somewhat naïve Seeker who simply let his inventions be taken from him, instead of bargaining with them for favor, like a true Decepticon should. This way, he'd never rise any further than being the commander of the other Seekers, even more concerned with outdated concepts as honour than him. A strange bunch these fliers are, he fleetingly thought, so good warriors in the air but so out of their depths on the ground, in the world of intrigues and plotting. Not that he complained about it.

During his musings that would be taken as strange on a battlefield only if someone didn't know the telepath, he got close enough to the warrior twins, especially the red one for a more in-depth scan. His mind was the usual, useless clutter of the frontliners, so much devoid of intelligence, logic and self-control that it made the scan acutely distasteful for Soundwave – but he held on and after a little while he was rewarded by the thought that he was looking for. So they had a mechling friend who had a Decepticon Seeker for a Sire… quite unusual, especially for such a youngster to live in an Autobot base. The warrior unfortunately didn't know the designation for that Seeker and Soundwave knew that he couldn't find him by telepathic scan of their aerial forces either; Seekers' processors were closed to him, especially so when they tried to actively hide something.

But he had other means to find out the truth too… by this time Soundwave was determined to find out who this Seeker was and how the youngling managed to be hidden for so long and where. Why would any Decepticon let their young stay among Autobots if not for preparing to defect, probably even acting as spies before it? He must get to the bottom of this. Megatron would expect him to discover if any member of their army had Autobot sympathies; it was his duty and Soundwave took duty very seriously. Once the battle ended and they all returned to Darkmount the telepath started his operation. Sending all his cassettes to spy on the Seekers with specific instructions, he sat down to the base computer, intending to go through all the potentially suspicious absences of any Seekers that could have covered a meeting or rather regular meetings with the Autobots. However well they covered their absences, statistics couldn't lie, at least not to his adept and professional mind. Telepathy wasn't the only ability that made him superior to most mechs.

But after a while he had to admit that he must have underestimated the Seeker in question, because he could find not even one of them who had unusual long absences from the base. All the patrols were in order, with the regular check-ins at the wayward stations, all the scheduled rotations amongst the bases checked out perfectly and he had no Seeker he could point at, even as the slightest bit suspicious. A certain level of unexplained absences was present in all their records – Soundwave knew about their famous, if inconvenient interface drive and that the nearby Neutral towns had often been visited by the always horny Seekers. It was unofficially overlooked as necessary for the better mood and therefore easier handling of the fliers. But Autobot territory was farther by a lot than these and they created a totally different pattern in the records than any visit to say Iacon, where the warrior twins were regularly stationed.

Surprisingly, it was Rumble who returned with a result while his other cassettes came back empty handed from the Seekers' barracks. Rumble was the worst in spying of his cassettes, because he could never be quiet and focus on the task long enough. But this time he found a target even more scatterbrained and babbling than himself – Skywarp. As the small cassette reported excitedly, Skywarp was talking with some other Seekers about raising a sparkling in a war and Rumble stressed that he did sound very much involved in the topic, like it was not just a wish or a theoretical question for him.

The information surprised Soundwave, although he didn't show it. When he started the investigation, there were only a handful of Seekers that he categorically winnowed out as unlikely culprits for various reasons and Skywarp was one of them. He had a definite and strong, almost exclusive relationship with his wingmate, Thundercracker that they tried to hide but Soundwave knew about it; and it was highly unlikely that he should have a sparkling with a Neutral carrier. Nor was he intelligent or cunning enough to hide a sparkling for vorns from his searches and enquiries.

But Soundwave took the information seriously and delved into Skywarp's schedule – and soon into the whole Trine's as he was more or less convinced that the black Seeker was unable to manage it on his own; and Trines were usually a tight-knit group, acting together and hiding their secrets from the outside world. His Trine leader, Starscream was definitely one of those Seekers who could plan and carry out such a subterfuge; and probably would do it too for a wingmate or a sparkling. All Seekers were crazy about sparklings and at the beginning of the war it took quite a lot of planning to write and spread a viral code among them to tone down their procreation drive – it would have made a pretty inefficient army to have the aerial force carry or raise sparklings half the time. And that was beside the baffles that mechanically obstructed their ability to carry. Sometimes Soundwave seriously doubted that the problems the Seekers came by were truly outweighed by their aerial prowess.

Soundwave was secretly embarrassed that he didn't immediately thought of the trines when he combed the statistics for unexplained absences or anomalies – once he modified the search accordingly, Starscream's trine together was immediately highlighted as most suspicious. They probably rotated the visits among them and covered for the absentee wingmate during their patrols; it was meticulously worked out and executed – Soundwave admitted it so to himself, upscaling his opinion of Starscream in the process.

But positive opinion and the tiny grain of sympathy for the sparkling didn't stop him from delving deeper into the matter and sending his two aerial cassettes after the Seekers whenever they went for a patrol. The covert surveillance brought results soon. From the records – distant and grainy as they were, but still showing that it was not Skywarp after all, but Starscream who was the Sire of the youngling, designation Blackfoot. It was valuable information, as Megatron agreed with him when he finally took the report to their Commander and leader, one that they could and should use.

* * *

><p><strong>Confrontation<strong>

Starscream had a bad feeling. He almost turned back halfway to fly back to Darkmount and check out… well, check out something. He didn't know what caused this foreboding, dark cloud that seemed to settle on his circuits but it made him nervous all the same. Only… Megatron would be furious if he just simply abandoned the patrol, no matter that he was Air Commander – the rules applied to him too. So Starscream just accelerated a bit, towing the silently grumbling Thundercracker who struggled a bit to keep up with his suddenly jittery Trine-leader and together they sped towards the rendezvous-point with Skywarp.

It was the teleporter this time who got to meet with Blackfoot, according to their private rotation and as much as the tricoloured Seeker wanted to see his youngling more often, he knew better than foul up the carefully worked out schedule. It was for his protection and for theirs too. Of course with them speeding up on the usual patrol, the meeting point was devoid of Seekers when they arrived and Thundercracker's quiet grumbling got a bit louder as they had to circle around the place. If they did it for long, it might just make someone curious too as to why.

The agreed time came and went and Skywarp wasn't even on the horizon still. The two Seekers stopped bickering and started to worry just a tiny bit. As their third failed to appear after a breem, the worry started to grow. If nothing happened for another breem, Thundercracker knew that Starscream would do something, perhaps something rash. He just wasn't the mech to wait patiently and he's been tense all through the patrol. So the blue Seeker decided to try and calm his Trine-leader down.

"He is not the most punctual, you know, Star."

"I know." – came the short, curt answer, Starscream hardly even paying attention to Thundercracker's attempt at consoling him.

"I mean it is not unusual for him to slack off a bit; he's been acting exemplary so far in this matter."

"I know." - Starscream, it seemed was given to curt sentences this time and that worried the blue Seeker more than Skywarp's lateness. It just wasn't him.

"He should've commed…"

Fortunately then they both noticed the black Seeker streaking towards them with his top speed, braking just as he was about to collide with Thundercracker and babbling apologies all the time."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to be late, I just forgot and lost concentration and sorry, Stars, I hope you didn't worry too much!"

Starscream felt strange… the nervousness should have dissipated seeing that Skywarp was just his usual tardy self and nothing more happened. But strangely, he still felt it, this gloom that tried to tell him that something bad happened.

"So… did it go all right? Nothing suspicious happened?"

"Suspicious? No, I haven't seen anything strange."

"Is Blackfoot all right? No mech followed you?"

"Stars!" – Skywarp managed to sound offended while looking sheepish still for being late and causing him to worry this much. No mech could follow a teleporter, Starscream should know better than ask that. – "He is fine and dandy and I wasn't followed."

"Okay, okay… I'm just… I don't know why, but I feel something bad happened." – he paused for a klik – "Or will happen."

"Let's get this patrol over with in the meanwhile." – Thundercracker, as usual was the voice of reason and calm. It more or less worked this time too; Starscream seemingly managed to overcome this unexplainable bad feeling he had, as Skywarp chattered to him about the youngling, relating his stories to his Trine leader and generally being his usual, bubbly self all the way back to Darkmount. Once there, the strange mood dissipated even more as nothing greeted them that could be called out of ordinary; Starscream went to the Command Center to give his report, while his Trine-mates awaited him in their shared quarters, and seemingly noone spared them so much as a second glance.

The Command Center was nearly empty and silent, quite unusual at this time of the orn. Only Megatron lounged on his throne and Soundwave bent over a monitor – and when he entered a swift wave from the telepath's servo sent even the small cleaning drone scurrying out. The locking of the door behind him and the empty place awakened the Seeker's anxiety in full force again and his steps faltered in the middle of the room. Neither of them spoke so far or paid – apparently – any attention to him, but Starscream's processor was screaming warnings at him none the less. But until he knew something, he couldn't react – vorns of experience in the command power plays taught him this.

He sat down at his terminal, intending to input the report when he saw from the corner of his optic Megatron standing up and slowly, ominously stepping behind his Air Commander until he loomed over him completely. Starscream's digits froze on the keyboard. Should he look up and ask, or… but Megatron solved his dilemma, by gripping his right wing and drawing him up by it. Subtlety was not the tyrant's forte, the watching telepath thought exasperatedly.

"Haven't you forgotten to mention something in you report, Starscream?" – he growled.

"B-but, my Lord… I haven't done my report yet…" – now, he was confused. What did the rustheap mean?

"Don't bother to write down your lies. You have consistently forgotten to mention in them your little forays to the Autobots, haven't you?"

Starscream swallowed nervously and hissed as the grip on his wing became even tighter, bending the metal and setting the sensors screaming. How could he know about it? Neither of them has seen anyone following them – he looked at Soundwave who hovered closely, eager to pick up any kind of a thought that could condemn him and was glad that the telepath couldn't read his mind ever. Still, he had a bigger problem, unfortunately quite literally standing in front of him. Megatron didn't wait patiently for an answer and didn't like the attention shifting from him either – shifting his grip from the wing to the Seeker's neck, his favourite point on the Seeker's frame, he shook the smaller mech before throwing him to the floor and stepping on the closer wing to stop him from scrambling away.

"Nothing to say? That's not like you, Seeker."

"My Lord… I can explain!"

"I'm sure you can. Too bad I'm not interested in traitors' empty words!"

"I'm not a traitor! It was just… my… son…" – the admission was hard, unbelievably painful to let go of his long-held secret to the one he wanted to keep it from the most and betray his son, whose fate it could quite well condemn.

"And why was that scrawny creation of yours with the Autobots?"

"I didn't know about it! I'd thought him to be deactivated! It was only a little while ago that I learned that they had him!" – his only chance was to make it sound like Blackfoot was going to join them – nothing else would satisfy Megatron, perhaps not even that… - "My Lord, I beg you! It is true, I never fraternized with Autobots, never betrayed you! Only for my son, whom I wanted to get back! I swear!" – Starscream's voice rose in volume and pitch as he spoke, until he almost shrieked the last words.

"In that case, Seeker, we have spared you the bother." – Megatron smirked cruelly to his Air Commander, writhing under his heavy pede. The Seeker froze at his words, apparently thinking that Blackfoot got deactivated already, frantically trying to open the still weak bond between them to ascertain of his fate – it was there, but he couldn't feel Blackfoot, like he was in recharge or maybe drugged. But Megatron continued – "He is here now and he will be the guarantee that you behave. It is actually a very easy arrangement; you do something I don't like and he gets the punishment. You get to watch it though."

Starscream couldn't speak. It was what he had feared so many times, his son being used to ensure his obedience. And knowing Megatron, he would not go easy on him just because he was a youngling – no, the warlord has never showed any shred of mercy towards anyone, be it a sparkling, a femme or any innocent, defenseless being. If anything it just awakened his crueler, sadistic side… And he wasn't sure that Blackfoot would obey him at all, or how long before the opinionated youngling started to talk back to Megatron who'd then get angry and… do something final. But he had no choice, none whatsoever than to go with it until he could make a new plan. Dropping his helm defeated, Starscream mumbled a thick, uneasy 'yesm'lord' that had Megatron grin victoriously and let his pede up from his crushed wing.

"Excellent! To start with, your first lesson is never again talk a single word with an Autobot, for any reason."

Starscream looked up fearfully. – "No, My Lord, I'll never…" – he couldn't believe that he got off the hook this easy.

"Spare me the empty promises, Starscream. I already told you what your disobedience means."

"NOOO…!" – he realized just then exactly what Megatron meant. It did little good as Soundwave moved behind him, lifted his frame into a chair and with neat, efficient moves shackled his wrists to the arm-rests, facing him towards a monitor. The stasis cuffs were set to a high level, leaving him with very little motion, so he could only listen as they left the Command Center, two burly guards taking their place at his back. The monitor that he was facing was dark just yet, but Starscream had little doubt as to what he would see on it soon. He dreaded it.

* * *

><p><strong>Trapped<strong>

Blackfoot onlined in darkness, feeling dizzy and as soon as these circumstances registered in his processor, he started to panic. Not again, not so soon, and… but as soon as he sit up, a light came on, doing wonders dissipating the youngling's developing fear somewhat. It didn't disappear fully though, as the room he was in was totally unfamiliar, smallish and devoid of anything but a berth he was on; uncomfortably looking and feeling like a cell. His processor ache made it hard to concentrate, but he tried to remember what happened. Skywarp was there, they talked and he gave the teleporter a bauble that he made for his Sire; then they separated and went on their way, himself towards the base as usual… yes, that's where his memories suddenly stopped without warning, just as he left the ruins and was about to transform and drive away.

He looked around in the place again for any clues but it offered singularly little in way of identification; a more nondescript and bland room he couldn't even imagine. It had a door sure, but he couldn't find any locking mechanism and it didn't open on its own or at his cautious prodding either. A cell, then, he concluded uneasily, and it conjured up a few scenarios that he'd always been afraid. The first on that list was being captured by Decepticons who discovered his connection with Starscream; their greatest worry all in his life. There were of course some subscenarios, according to exactly who did the deed – since he was so far unharmed, he hoped that they were maybe just other Seekers, trying to blackmail his Sire through him. They had prepared for such eventualities, going through of the likely culprits and the ways he could behave; he would have to see exactly what role he'd have to play.

Blackfoot's musings had the effect of somewhat calming him; the room didn't get any bigger and that caused a low-level anxiety that refused to leave, but this much, he knew he could keep in check. As far as nothing else happened to break down his composure. He tried to sense along the bond, to reach Starscream, but as usual, he kept it firmly locked down like always when he couldn't afford to be influenced by Blackfoot's emotions. He hoped that at some point his Sire would realize what happened and opened the link, tenuous as it was still, but still better than nothing.

His musings were interrupted by the door sliding aside and in it a huge mech appearing. Blackfoot felt his fear increasing as he recognized him – Megatron stood there, menacing even when he didn't even mean to be, but downright terrifying to the youngster, whose worst fears have just come true. He didn't even realize his own movement to put some space between himself and the cruelly smirking mech, advancing on him, until the far wall stopped his retreat; he was busy trying not to be mesmerized by the smoldering red optics that seemed to bore into him. For a nanoklik he felt shame that his composure was shattered so fast, so completely, but the fear overwhelmed that thought as well, like it did with all the others.

Although he didn't know it at the time, the fear actually served him well, as it made his mind near unreadably chaotic to the telepath entering behind his Lord. It took Blackfoot some time to be able to tear his optics from the silently approaching Megatron and pay a little attention to the navy blue mech beside him – a tiny bit of his processor that still worked identifying him as Soundwave and that kicked in some protocols, his Sire taught him for just such an occasion. The frustrated flash of the mech's visor caused a bit of victory in him, which in turn helped him to calm a bit – at least his mind was safe from the telepath's unwanted intrusion and he might just be able to tell things to the tyrant's liking. If he even bothered to ask anything, he thought wryly.

"Do you know who am I?"

Blackfoot nodded and tried to stay as far from him as he could in the small room, boxed in by two mechs, both easily many times bigger than him. – "Lord Megatron, commander of the Decepticon army." – he tried to keep his voice steady but respectful – no need to antagonize him so soon. It seemed to work a little bit; Megatron stopped, albeit far closer than he'd've liked, and looked maybe a bit less ferocious than at first. Or was it just wishful thinking?

"Good. At least you know how to behave, brat. Continue this way and you might be allowed out and in time to join my warriors."

Now, he was supposed to thank the offer and look properly awed, Blackfoot knew, but it was hard to make himself to say it. – "I… I…" – he couldn't finish it, because just then the bond erupted in a chaotic mixture of _fear/worry/hopelessness_ and he knew that Starscream realized his situation. As a consequence he took too much time to answer, so the next he saw was Megatron's face up close, snarling into his faceplates, while a strong servo captured his jaw:

"Don't you like it brat? Too bad, because you won't get to choose."

_"Lord Megatron"_ – Soundwave couldn't read their minds but the emotions he saw clearly. – _"They are aware of each other and the situation."_

"So now you both know. Great! He gets to watch, while you get to feel it." – Megatron looked triumphant almost as he backhanded the youngling; the force of the blow sending Blackfoot crashing into the next wall.

Blackfoot tried to stand, move and maybe avoid at least some of the blows that were sure to come this way, but as many, he too underestimated just how fast the former gladiator could move. Megatron was on him before he could pick himself up from the floor and another blow whipped his head to the side, cracking an optic and denting the plates. He whimpered once, short, but didn't give up, although the idea did enter his processor – but a sudden flow of _support/love/protectiveness_ through the bond fortified him. Utilizing his smaller stature, he scrambled low on the floor, between the massive legs towards the still open doorway. He didn't reach it of course; Soundwave was content to watch the lesson from the background, not altogether comfortable with harming a youngling, but not wanting to let him escape either.

But he wasn't even nearly so well versed in hand to hand combat as Megatron and Blackfoot was agile enough to make use of the moves that Sunny taught him to use against bigger, heavier adversaries. Soundwave soon found his servos quite full with a writhing, evading, parrying mechling, while he nearly got hit by Megatron twice as well. Accidentally of course, as the two big mechs were quite confounded by the fast and desperate youngling. He couldn't escape though; distracted Soundwave might be, but closing and locking the door he didn't forget even in the midst of a scuffle, as soon as he realized that Blackfoot was ultimately making for it.

Blackfoot managed to avoid being grabbed – the sure end of any fight for a smaller combatant - by either of them for nearly two breems before Megatron finally got hold of his spoiler and with a vicious yank half tore it off from his shoulders. He howled at the pain, fell on his front and that was about the last move he clearly remembered; the following blows and kicks blended together into a continuous flow of pain. He did feel a _despair/fear/fury_ from his Sire, but soon it too felt dim, like someone shut a door onto his processor as well, disassociating his thinking from himself and his battered body.

Megatron for his part, felt a little, grudging respect for the youngling, even though it did nothing to stay his beating; not many, not even hardened, experienced, bigger and stronger warriors dared to defy him and stand up for themselves even temporarily against his might. The brat might make a good warrior if he survived to grow up. Soundwave told him that the youngling was to be a flier, a Seeker and that made him valuable in itself; but being able to fight like a grounder would make him even more so. To break him and possibly use against his recalcitrant Air Commander would be downright priceless.

Leaving the youngling whimpering on the ground when he was finished with the lesson, he motioned Soundwave over, to check that he had no fatal wounds and when his SIC nodded confirmation, they left the room to check on the Seeker, watching it all. Round two. He had long known that the tricoloured Seeker was one of those few who could eventually be a danger to him; he was cunning, intelligent, commanded respect and was popular in the ranks; beside being power-hungry and capable of leadership. Long has he sought a way to curb that ambition before it became a danger and now the Seeker himself has handed him one, a perfect tool to enforce his loyalty and obedience. Megatron had no compunction at all to use the Seeker's son for his goal and no intentions to let either of them escape from his clutches.

* * *

><p><strong>Sidelines<strong>

"TC, shouldn't Star got back from his report already? He never spent so much time with one before."

"He might be distracted, Warp. Don't disturb him when he might be with Megatron or we'll never hear the end of it."

"He said he'd hurry. He wanted to hear more about Blackfoot."

"He'll be back soon. Don't worry."

But instead of Starscream, Shockwave came with his drones and disarming them, disabling Warp's teleport-gate, dragged the two Seekers to the brig, throwing them into separate cells. Thundercracker saw Starscream in another one as he was brought it – his Trine-leader was shackled, dazed and beaten, obviously in no condition to offer explanations.

"Sir, may I ask why we are punished?" – Shockwave at least wouldn't beat him just for asking; the cyclops would think such retribution illogical.

"Fraternizing with the enemy, as you know very well. Don't try to deny it."

Thundercracker's processor spun with the accusation – how could it be that they were discovered? He saw Skywarp in the other cell huddling into a ball, obviously thinking that he was the reason for it somehow, being followed or overheard. The blue Seeker couldn't say what it was, but their apprehending was too fast after arriving back, too little time for their superiors to discuss and decide what to do with them. Soundwave wasn't known to act hasty and if anyone it was him or his cassettes who got their secret.

"Star! Are you all right?" – Skywarp hissed after Shockwave left the brig and they remained alone.

"No…" – came the bleak answer from the unmoving Seeker. – "They got Blackfoot."

"Slag… how?"

"Dunno… they waited me when I got there. Made me watch…"

"Watch what…?" – Thundercracker was worried about his trine-leader's dejected, defeated voice.

"Megatron's beaten him."

"No! Not the youngling!" – Skywarp was almost as devastated as Starscream. The black Seeker never curbed his emotions and Thundercracker knew how much he wanted a sparkling of their own – and since it was just not possible, he almost adopted Blackfoot as his own. His own coding too was in an upheaval; Seekers were made to protect younglings above everything.

-o-o-o-

Sunstorm knew something was going on with the higher-ups, but he had very little rank to try and find out directly. How could the whole Elite Trine get landed in the brig together? Usually it was just Starscream or Skywarp for a prank; the golden Seeker couldn't even remember if he ever saw Thundercracker there. But there they were and Sunstorm was determined to find out the reason for it. Strangely enough luck was on his side; he noticed that so far none of their guards were Seekers, but the very evening he started to plan, he stumbled into Shockwave on the corridor, breaking a gadget in his servo; and the scientist sent him to guard duty as punishment. It was just perfect; the night monitors were done by the most inept pair of mechs Sunstorm ever cast an optic on; the Battlechargers, who, the Seeker was fairly sure never actually looked at the monitors in their entire function. Still, he waited until he could be fairly sure that no officer would come down to check on them, before approaching the Seekers' cells.

"Starscream!" – he hoped that the proud Seeker would still trust him. – "What happened to your Trine?"

"Why interested?" – Starscream was vary, even thought he knew that Sunstorm was never against him.

"I… I care." – it wasn't a secret – he openly courted Starscream before the tricolored Seeker opted for his present Trine-mates and besides he was far too low on the pecking order for them to use it against him. – "Please, Stars, what's going on? Can I help?"

"Don't tell him!" – Skywarp obviously didn't like the golden Seeker and with good reason; it was his place in the Trine that the other had contended for.

"Why would you help? You can see that we got into trouble with command. Why would you go against them?" – Thundercracker simply didn't trust Sunstorm, no emotion attached.

"Megatron got hold of my youngling and uses him against me… us." – Starscream didn't exactly ignore his Trine-mates as much as he wanted to grasp any help he could. They couldn't get into any deeper into this slag anyhow, not even if the golden Seeker betrayed them. Starscream knew Megatron, understood him like few others. He wouldn't stop beating Blackfoot from time to time, once he started it; it would only grow in intensity. Like his own beatings. It was quite unconnected whether he obeyed or not, whatever he did or didn't do. The gunformer rarely cared about actual causes when he needed to alleviate his frustration.

"You have a youngling? How?"

"Long story. He was with Autobots. Now we are charged with fraternizing with them and Blackfoot is in Megatron's servos."

"He didn't…"

"He did."

"No!" – Sunstorm felt his tanks roiling. He was a simple Seeker, nothing special, but he couldn't easily imagine anyone harming a youngling. But looking at Starscream, the normally proud, confident and capable mech lying in a ball on the floor of the cell, voice shaking and barely more than a whisper, optics dimmed to a barely visible ember – he realized that if he did have a youngling and it was harmed by Megatron, he would look just this broken. If not more.

"I'm sorry…" – he whispered, knowing how little it meant. - "I don't know how can I help but I'll try."

"You can't go against him. It would be rebelling, you'd be executed."

"I don't… I can't do that, I know. But maybe I can help indirectly. Not all Seekers are against you, not any more. You are a good leader."

"Not all, no… only most."

"Still… they wouldn't let a youngling harmed, not if they knew about it."

"Might be worth a try…" – Starscream didn't expect the Seekers to actually do anything, but maybe their collective disapproval would make Megatron to be a bit more restrained with how he handled Blackfoot. The whole aerial force was something that even he had to take into account. The slightest sliver of hope - but presently the only one he had. He didn't seriously considered that the Autobots would try anything for Blackfoot, not even with Prowl and the twin warriors caring about him. There was no way the Autobots would officially try to free the Decepticon Air Commander's son from Darkmount.

In this he was mostly right, but he did underestimate the cunning and the lengths some of them would be willing to go to achieve an objective.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **"normal speech", "_comm line_", _worry/fear:_ emotions through the bond

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 8<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Sowing doubts<strong>

Blackfoot came online to various aches and pains all over from his body. The worse by far was his spoiler and the growing wings underneath that plating; the outer armour was torn badly and every movement cut into the sensitive protoform beneath it. It felt like flames licking the underside of his right wing, with an occasional branding iron thrown in for good measure. He couldn't do anything about it, couldn't even reach the area, even as he checked the rest of the damage, which were fortunately mostly superficial and his auto-repair has already started on them. He contemplated the berth in the corner, but decided that its bare surface didn't worth the trouble of getting up and probably jostle the wings in the process. So he stayed down on the floor by one wall and only slowly, cautiously shuffled into a little more comfortable position.

Opening up the bond to Starscream, he tried not to let the pain bleed into it as he sent _worry/love/assurance_ to him, and got a _love/chagrin/determination_ back. It was unfortunate that the link didn't let them talk clearly, only to convey some feelings, but it was still better than nothing. He also felt that his Sire probably sported some injuries himself as well beside the overwhelming worry and the rest of his swirling emotions. On top of everything, within a joor of coming online again, he started to feel hungry as well, the self-repair also slowing in the absence of new fuel. He was fairly sure that they wouldn't let him starve to deactivation, but that still left an uncomfortably big margin.

With nothing else left to spend the time with, Blackfoot started to wonder about the possibilities again. Clearly Megatron had no intention of letting him go freely, even within the Decepticon base as it would mean him meeting with Starscream and give them the possibility to escape. The only way he was useful in controlling the Seeker was by separating them and keeping Blackfoot – useless anyway to the Decepticons as a youngling – locked away and threatened. Not very good outlook as far as he was concerned, since escape seemed unlikely, unless his guards were really stupid.

His musings were broken by the door swishing open and the telepath, Soundwave entering the room again, accompanied by two small forms – his cassettes, Blackfoot remembered – and another mech, whom he didn't recognize from the Seeker's descriptions. His function was soon revealed as he strode over to the wary youngling and with terse, no-nonsense moves yanked the spoiler to its correct place and welded it there. Blackfoot hissed at the sudden flare of pain but refrained from making any other sound. The medic examined the rest of the dents swiftly, made a few quick repairs on some and left the room.

The telepath watched the repairs without any comments – Blackfoot remembered that he was extremely laconic – and when the medic left he stepped closer, offering a cube of energon to Blackfoot. As his Sire and Ratchet taught him, he smelled the liquid first, then tasted a minuscule amount, analyzing the taste and smell for any harmful additives – but found none. At least none that was immediately identifiable.

"You are a cautious one!" – exclaimed one of the cassettes – "Why would the energon be tampered with?"

"You mean why not?" – was his answer. Did they take him for stupid? Being kept as a prisoner, he had every reason to suspect his fuel to be drugged in some way.

"Frenzy: desist." – Soundwave spoke up. – "Suspicion: expected. Worry: unnecessary."

"To paraphrase you, worry: necessary." – Blackfoot replied, a bit bolder now. Soundwave wasn't a violent mech by the descriptions, and his telepathy didn't work on him. – "Prisoners should always worry about being drugged, especially if it includes blackmail."

"Blackfoot: not a prisoner."

"Sure. Can I go now?"

"Negative."

"Prisoner it is then."

"Query: don't want to stay with your Sire?"

"I wanted that all in my life. But you don't exactly let me."

"Starscream: Decepticon. Blackfoot: with Decepticons."

"Being in the same base doesn't mean I am with him."

"Privilege: to be earned."

"By what?"

"Blackfoot: cooperation. Starscream: loyalty to the cause."

"You got the second one, and you never asked me about the first. Cooperation is never trusted when forced." – Blackfoot scowled at the bigger mech, showing far more bravado than he actually felt. – "Don't try to tell me that you'd trust me not to escape. Not after the nice, welcoming beating."

"Blackfoot: choose to be prisoner then?"

"It's not a choice when you only get bad and worse alternatives."

"Choice is made."

"What would you choose if it was your one?" – Blackfoot saw the purportedly emotionless mech twitch a little at the question, while Frenzy bemusedly looked at the captive youngling who didn't behave like normal prisoners would. Or even a normal youngster. Blackfoot had no intention of showing just how afraid he was and was glad that it was a successful charade.

"Query: irrelevant. Soundwave: loyalty not questioned."

"You shouldn't have questioned Sire's loyalty either. It may just harmed what was flawless before."

The sharp flash on the otherwise inscrutable visor told him that he did find a point that Soundwave wasn't sure about.

"Blackfoot: expected to defend Sire."

"Truth is the best defense."

"If loyalty: full, Blackfoot: will rejoin Starscream."

"Only lord Megatron will never believe it…" – Blackfoot was sure of this. – "…and suspicion will further harm the previously unblemished loyalty."

"Past: cannot be changed. Future: can." – Soundwave didn't even want to admit it to himself, but it was a refreshingly enjoyable experience to talk to such a clever youngling. Even when said youngling managed to score a point or two in the conversation which was making the supposedly emotionless telepath consider that some of what happened could have been avoided.

* * *

><p><strong>Having doubts<strong>

"Well, tell me one good reason, why should we risk good Autobots' lives for a scrawny Con youngling, who probably just ran away ta be with his Pit damned Sire, betraying us in the process."

The look that Prowl cast at the ranting Ironhide could have dried an acid swamp to dust in kliks.

"Starscream's defection?" – he interjected, trying to keep his calm by reminding himself that Ironhide wasn't there for much of the plan and his influence and prejudice was mostly the one that spawned Hot Rod's disastrous attitude. Still, he could've at least read the memo when it was presented. Now he would have to go over it all yet again. – "As soon as we realized who Blackfoot's Sire was, it was agreed that by gaining his trust and sympathies we could draw Starscream at least away from being an avid Decepticon. The optimum of the plan would be for him and his trine to join our forces, but we'd've settled with them just becoming neutrals, when we saw that Blackfoot naturally leaned towards that attitude."

"I would've never supported that plan. That Seeker will never change sides and trusting a Con youngling is pure foolishness."

"Might I remind you 'Hide that I agreed to the plan, and after getting to know Blackfoot I found it entirely feasible?" – Optimus Prime loved Ironhide for an old friend and brother in arms, but the mech could be so bloody-minded that at times it seemed to him a miracle how he put up with him. – "By calling the plan foolish, you seriously question my judgment in the matter as well as Prowl's. Not that it cannot be questioned, but you have yet to say any reasonable arguments."

"Sorry Optimus, but he IS a Con spawn." – Ironhide looked like it explained everything and it was a final argument, closing the matter. Which, for him probably was. The mech was as prejudiced as they came and not willing to budge an inch from his opinion. Prowl started to see just where Hot Rod got his attitude and problems.

"Blackfoot is a neutral and legally my ward." – Prowl tried nevertheless. – "Since he is with us no mech has had the slightest reason of accusing him with anything like treason or not trusting him. Quite the opposite, he's managed to seriously question some of the beliefs that Starscream's trine harbored. At this point it was only a matter of time before they broke away from Megatron. But in any case, we have a legal obligation to at least bargain for his freedom."

"Ah doubt that. And he's probably with Starscream now, enjoying being among his own."

"Ya are wrong in that at least." – Jazz so far was silent, listening to the others, but gleaning hard to find information was his field of expertise and Prowl of course asked him straight away to try and gain some insight as to what happened. – "According to mah sources the youngling and Starscream are separated and both are under guard, the Seekers awaiting punishment for treason. Mah source says that Megatron holds Blackfoot to ensure Starscream's continued loyalty. Since Hook visited his cell, I guess it included some violence against the youngling as well."

"They could act like that ta have us send in a rescue party and be ambushed." – Ironhide didn't question Jazz's revelation, as it would be foolish to do so with the spec ops commander - he only interpreted it differently than the others.

"If you imply that a Seeker would let his youngling be in Megatron's hands willingly, then you don't know them at all. Seekers cherish all younglings."

"Ironhide, it is highly unlikely. Starscream loves Blackfoot deeply and he'd never let Megatron beat him or even to hold them apart."

"Even if it's all true – and Ah don't believe it really – it's suicide to send a rescue party into the heart of their base. Ah say let the youngling be Starscream's problem."

"I can't be a party to that." – Prowl was close to dressing down the older mech for being obtuse – "I pledged to keep the youngling safe until he gets his final frame – which is quite close and I doubt that the Cons know it or prepared to supply him with the necessary medical attention."

"Don't worry Prowl, we won't leave Blackfoot there, unless of course it is his wish." – Optimus agreed with his SIC completely in this issue. The cooperation of Starscream and the Elite Trine was well worth the risks that came with such a mission. – "Ironhide, your objection is noted, but unless you provide new arguments, we will go through with the plan that Prowl prepared."

* * *

><p><strong>Heeding doubts<strong>

Sunstorm didn't waste any time after he got to know what was going on. As a relative nobody in the ranks, he has always been well outside the officers' scrutiny and this time it was just as well; no mech, not even Soundwave found it suspicious, or even took notice of a single Seeker chatting a lot with the other jets. He made no plans whatsoever, asked no mech to help in anything – he just spread a tale. A romantic, sappy tale that nevertheless got the sympathy of most, if not all Seekers, despite of it being totally un-Decepticon-like; a tale of a romantic love, a lost and found sparkling and a dilemma that the youngling's Sire faced. Lately he added a sad and beaten youngling to it that made many servos tighten in anger and wings to flutter meaningfully.

Soon the Seekers all got wind of the story. Especially when Starscream and his Trine was freed from the brig and they could all see what a short leash they were kept. None of them could leave Darkmount, except on patrol, and one of the Trine was always kept behind even then, watched closely in the Command Center, while supposedly on monitor duty. They were all doing double shifts and when they finally sat down tiredly in the common room to refuel, there was always a cassette or two sneaking around, listening, spying, reporting. No other mech, not even the Seekers dared to approach them to ask or talk, as it was clear that any such action was discouraged.

But Seekers had ways that not even Soundwave with all his tools could get rid of or keep under his surveillance. They had to fly, had to train and keeping the Air Commander from his main duty would be more suspicious than worthwhile. The telepath of course kept more than just an audial on the Seekers' radio traffic, but it never turned up anything suspicious; if anything, Starscream was even more cold and authoritative towards the other fliers than before, who in turn were obedient but neutral towards the Elite Trine.

He didn't know the wing language that every Seeker learned before they started to fly. It wasn't exactly a separate language and Soundwave knew the spoken part of it; but as many non-Seekers before him, he too dismissed the wing-movements as just an emotional component of the language. But it was far more than that and this time the Seekers utilized it to its fullest to go around the telepath's spying and the cassettes recordings. So the tale spread and this way they could confirm it too from the ones involved in it.

It would perhaps be unbelievable for grounders, how the existence of a single youngling could turn even the most jealous, callous old Seekers to stand behind their Air Commander, whom they used to despise and try to depose. But Seeker society is very much centered around the winglets and no amount of propaganda could ever change their core programming. Seekers cared for, protected and cherished younglings and that was that. So far as there had been no winglets around their programming could be handled; but once they got wind of the youngling, the codes awakened with full force. Blackfoot was an unwitting catalyst for changes greater than he could imagine…

It certainly helped that Starscream turned out to be not only an exceptionally good flier, but a similarly capable leader too, until the rumours of him being the rightful Winglord were actually believed by most. Gone were most of the jealous, old snobs who questioned his promotion vorns ago; they were culled out both by the war and his wrath. The remaining Seekers accepted him and even respected his abilities – as well as feared them, but lately he wasn't so hard on the ranks as before. Most of the Seekers just realized exactly what spurred that change in his behaviour.

"Lord Megatron, we'd respectfully like to ask a favor." – Darkwind was nervous, but he was chosen as spokesmech by the Seekers and he accepted it. It was dangerous if Megatron choose to react negatively, but their conscience demanded to do something. He was the eldest Seeker in the army and about the only one of the older cadre to have actually stood beside Starscream from the beginning. Not that he ever acted it openly, and as such he was the best Seeker for the job.

"Speak." – Megatron wasn't sure what the elder Seeker wanted and a glance to Soundwave confirmed that the telepath was in the dark as well.

"We heard that a Seeker youngling was your…" – he hesitated, trying to choose a neutral expression instead of 'prisoner' – "…in your custody. We'd like to ask confirmation of this."

"What is that to you?" – if the Seekers were going to question his methods, they'd regret it soon.

"Lord Megatron, a Seekerling should be with Seekers. How else is he going to learn flying and our language?"

"He will be with Seekers if I see it fit!" – Damn, he has already confirmed the youngster's presence to him. Megatron scowled darkly. Darkwind was an unofficial elder of the Seekers, respected by many if not most. The presence of this worthless glitch here meant that most of the Seekers were on the same opinion and he couldn't just dismiss the problem like he wanted to. – "Don't you dare to question me!"

"Of course not My Lord… we would just like to know about his condition. There is rumour that he is going to need his final frame soon."

Megatron balked at that. It was something he didn't know and neither Soundwave nor Hook informed him of. He wasn't even sure if Hook could safely upgrade a Seekerling. Probably not – and if he lost the youngling he'd not only lose his leash on Starscream, but by the look of things the obedience of the other Seekers too. Megatron cast a disapproving glower at the suddenly uncertain Soundwave – the telepath should have gathered all the facts before coming to him with this whole fragging slag.

"I'll check the matter. If he needs to be upgraded, he'll be."

"Thank you My Lord. Can I see him to ascertain his condition?"

"Fine." – he was loathing that he had to give in to the wily Seeker. – "Soundwave, take Darkwind to Blackfoot. He gets a breem."

-o-o-o-

Darkwind followed the telepath nervously, through the hidden corridor from the Command Center and into a small room. The room was bare, save for a small berth and he saw immediately the youngling, curled into a dark ball in one corner. He saw the crude marks of recent repair on the spoiler that hid the wing-nubs. He saw the dents and scratches that told their story without words and made him growl deeply – his core programming almost screamed at seeing a youngling deliberately harmed. No need to ask who did it, and his opinion about their leader suddenly plummeted. A lot. Soundwave turned his visored, masked helm towards him, and Darkwind tried to hide his instinctive reaction.

He stepped over to the small form and touched his shoulder gently. The youngling looked up and Darkwind was suddenly faceplate to faceplate with an almost exact copy of his Air Commander… the dark helm was smaller but it had the same lines, the optics shone with the same intelligence. He felt them measure him up the same way too than it was when Starscream's sharp glance slid over his frame. It was… almost queer.

"How do you feel… Blackfoot?"

"Like I was beaten up and fixed sloppily." – yes, even his snark was a close copy of his Sire. If Darkwind had any doubt in the story so far, it was fast evaporating.

"Do you know about your next upgrade? Is it close?" – he saw the youngling look at him sharply, obviously catching the movement of the wings too. Good, so he knows enough to understand him. No need to mince words either, as he was clever enough to catch on the situation.

"Yes. Ratchet said it was to be sometime this groon."

"That close?" – it meant that they had to act faster than expected.

"Yeah… the upgrade frame was ready when I… umm… had to leave."

"Don't worry, we'll do something about that frame." – he could promise this much, the Seeker was fairly sure. Any plan to steal something from the Autobots would meet with approval from command, especially as none of them could make a Seeker frame this fast. Well, maybe Starscream could – but Megatron wouldn't let him near his youngling.

"Great… how is Sire…?" – he asked, because he knew that Soundwave expected him to ask it. It was one very clever youngling, Darkwind mused in himself, not entirely unsurprising, given Starscream's intelligence.

"As well as expected." – he told a lot more with his wings but Soundwave wouldn't have to know about that. – "I must go. Don't worry… once you have wings, everything'll get better."

Again he felt Soundwave's scrutiny on him; the telepath was clever and he knew there was more to this meeting that he could discover. Darkwind silently murmured a small thanks to Primus that he bothered to pay attention to the Air Commander's lessons about strengthening his mental walls.

"It is something we tell to all younglings." – he explained. – "Like a good luck-wish."

He knew that Soundwave was not fully placated by it but he choose not to question deeper.

"Commander Soundwave?" – he asked the telepath once they left the room – "Can we have Skywarp to help stealing that frame from the Autobots?"

Soundwave didn't answer immediately, carefully weighing the pros and cons of such a permission. Even an orn ago he'd've said no immediately, because Skywarp among the Autobots would mean treason. But that little tête-à-tête with the youngling has shaken some of his earlier beliefs. Despite of what he told Megatron earlier, Soundwave knew that he had no conclusive proof of the Air Commander's betrayal. In fact things could have been just as the Seeker told them, with him being in the dark about his creation and discovering him only later with the Autobots.

Starscream was certainly clever enough to play the Autobots so that they'd hide his son, let them upgrade him and then claim the young Seeker. It was logical too, as the Decepticon army was no fit place for a youngling and Starscream definitely knew it. The datapad that the youngling had with him in his subspace was a Decepticon-written history of the war and he couldn't have gotten it from anywhere else but the Seeker. It was certainly a good point for their case, if not a proof in itself.

If he let them steal that frame for the youngling, they would be in his debt and might make up for the premature accusation. Starscream was a good Air Commander and if it was proven that he remained loyal, then Megatron might forgive him and let the young Seeker become a Decepticon under his care. Yes, Soundwave thought, that would be a beneficial agreement to everyone concerned. It would even silence that small tendril of his conscience that arose when he saw Megatron beat the youngster.

"Permission to acquire frame: given. Skywarp: allowed under surveillance. Darkwind: charged with operation. Elite Trine: remains on base." – a little threat never hurt in the Decepticon army, just so your inferiors knew their place.

"Thank you, Commander Soundwave." – Darkwind was unfailingly polite. After all he was one of the noble Seekers before the war and learned to tell niceties while thinking the opposite.

* * *

><p><strong>Covert missions<strong>

"Frag it all Jazz, we were not made for stealth!" – Sideswipe growled at the saboteur who warned them to be quiet for the sixth time.

"To stop arguing all the time is a far cry from stealth…" – Jazz growled back, regretting for the nth time that he accepted the twins' offer for this mission. – "If you don't stop it, I'll deactivate your vocalizers!"

"Shoo, Jazz, we are what, teks away from the Cons, right?" – Sunstreaker wasn't worried about being quiet just yet and provoking Hot Rod proved to be a very satisfying exercise. No mech knew exactly why the flame-coloured mech volunteered for the mission and even less why Prowl accepted his offer. The twins suspected some kind of guilt for his behaviour towards Blackfoot, but it wasn't like Hot Rod's nature to show such, so they weren't sure. Nevertheless, they enjoyed egging on the mech who reacted quite satisfyingly to that.

It left only Jazz, who led the mission to wish them all to the Pit with their childish antics. The normally easygoing and daring officer was the only one who seemed to realize just how dangerous their little adventure was and that being teks away from the Decepticon base meant nothing if a more cautious patrol noticed them before they did. Of course, going to a stealth mission with the twins and Hot Rod was probably not the best of ideas that he had lately. If they got even near to the Con base, he'd be considering it a success.

But at least he had three of the best heavy hitters of the army at his back, Jazz mused, if the Cons discovered them it would be a mini-battle almost with the devil-may-care attitude that the twins naturally possessed and Hot Rod tried his very best to emulate. As they moved from ruin to ruin in a poor attempt of being covert, he tried to keep in mind whatever knowledge he possessed of the Cons' outer alert system and deactivate the sensors before one of the brightly coloured idiots stumbled into one.

"Yeah and we don't do patrols around our bases, just like the Cons." – he answered finally to Sunstreaker after having cut the line for one such sensor. – "Despite of appearances, we are not at war and this is just a walk in the crystal gardens to pick up your friend who got to visit his sire. We might even get to give Megatron a candy."

Sideswipe snickered, still not fully able to take the mission seriously. Ohh, they were serious that they wanted to save Blackfoot and if a Seeker or three came with him it was all the better; but the three of them had such a good mood at winning their plight against most of the officers, that nothing Jazz could do managed to calm them down. So far. The laughing, poking, jostling and occasionally attempting to stealthily walking quartet moved slowly towards the Decepticon base, observed by a silently gliding Laserbeak with slightly amused but clearly superior glance in her optics.

-o-o-o-

Skywarp never liked to be separated from Thundercracker and Starscream. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and he had enough common sense to admit it. He had to rely heavily on his unpredictability to survive without the other two. Fortunately, when faced with Soundwave, this character trait of his was probably the best weapon he could use; the telepath passionately hated – as much as one could hate something while being emotionless – the teleporter's random nature. But he could still instill fear into the Seeker by threatening his Trine; that concern, Skywarp could not hide.

Darkwind was, if not a friend exactly, but not an enemy either. He could work with the older Seeker, who reminded him a bit to Thundercracker in nature. His plan was far less sophisticated as Starscream's would be, but then, Skywarp knew that it didn't take much to fly near to the region controlled by the Autobots, without being discovered, and once there teleport in the base. Piece of an oil-cake. Autobots didn't have a teleporter and their countermeasures against him were pitiful.

Skywarp snorted. Starscream explained to him how the Autobots' anti-warp field worked and how he could avoid being caught in it. They adequately couldn't protect their bases against him teleporting in, since he could sort of feel the blind spots, while they could not. But the existence of the field made them think that they were safe from him.

Darkwind also told him about the whole conversation with Soundwave and Blackfoot, and he also included the parts which were hidden from the telepath. With the exact location of the hidden room, it was valuable information for the Elite Trine. Megatron would regret the orn he lifted a servo against a Seeker youngling.

The black Seeker blended surprisingly well into the blackened ruins and much as he hated to walk on the surface, it was still necessary to approach in this way, before he could at least see his target; teleporting, no matter how much processor power he dedicated to it, was still mostly an instinctive method and Skywarp learned through the vorns that visual contact somehow helped a lot with his targeting. Once he saw the outlines of the Iacon base in the settling sun, he thought about the target, what he knew about it and what he could see - and let his talent loose.

Starscream told him about a million times how impossible it was to instinctly deduce a target's coordinates just by feel as the teleporter called it – but it never disturbed Skywarp to utilize this seeming impossibility; many times just to poke his trine leader with it. Looking around the laboratory that he arrived to, Skywarp only acknowledged happily that he still had the edge, since the place was exactly as Blackfoot described it – including the warning not to touch anything inside as Wheeljack's things really tended to explode in a great percentage.

But he wasn't out to steal anything from here and neither to prank or sabotage the Autobots, so the black Seeker snuck quietly towards the side room where the upgrade frame was kept. He found it easily and took a klik to admire the fine lines and shiny colours of the frame – the youngling will look magnificent in this, he thought, a bit envious even.

"How nice of you Skywarp, to drop by." – the Autobot tactician's voice coming from behind him was dry but it contained a barely hid, tiny amusement too. – "Maybe we should exchange some ideas before you leave?"

-o-o-o-

Crankshaft trudged back to the base with a barely veiled anger on his faceplates. Slaggers left him out again and no mech came to change the guard at the energon mine station, even after he commed the base three times. He was so not staying a single shift longer and Soundwave could stuff his schedule where he kept his fragging cassettes. He hit the buttons beside the hidden entrance with unnecessary force, missing the code twice before it was accepted and he could finally enter, going straight to the commissary for his energon and then to his quarters for a good, sound recharge.

He passed few mechs on his way and neither of those paid him any attention; fair enough, since he ignored the slaggers too. The warriors in the Decepticon army weren't in general on a friendly basis with each other and every mech could recognize a pissed off, therefore potentially dangerous soldier and decided to leave him be until he either blew off the steam or got punished, maybe even beaten for it.

Crankshaft therefore wasn't disturbed until he got onto the third level and passed an obnoxiously bright yellow chassis, bumping into the mech's appendage as he passed him. That it might have been a bad idea, he recognized at once as the Seeker turned after him and screeched at him in an indignant voice, but he didn't care much, ignored the jet and continued where he was going. Slaggin' Seekers with their slagging wings and slagging voices on slaggin' processor-aches…

But Sunstorm, as soon as he was over the shock of a mere ground pounder jarring his wing and going on like nothing happened, looked after the mech with a slight frown. The grounder disappeared in the turn of the corridor, but the golden Seeker still stood there, wracking his processor… what was it that disturbed him about this particular mech? Suddenly he lifted his helm and with a flash of red in his optics, transformed and shot down the corridor catching up with him a transforming back.

"Sooo… Crankshaft. Care to explain me something?" – his talons tightened on the vulnerable, hornlike kibble on his shoulder, signalling him to stop and listen. Immediately.

"What?" – Crankshaft looked defensive. The Seeker was big and obviously knew where to grab him to hurt quickly.

"No, not your rudeness that you just displayed." – Sunstorm smirked at the smaller mech. It wasn't often that he got to do this and by Primus he was enjoying it. – "Rather the fact that you were publicly deactivated yesterday and I happened to see the fact from up close."

The talons tightened a bit more, threatening the energon line running under the plate. Crankshaft looked alarmed for a klik, then switched to a forced calmness.

"I don't know what are you babbling, idiot Seeker." – he snarled and tried to twist out of the Seeker's grasp – "Let me go, or your pretty wings will get more than a push."

"I don't think I will…" – Sunstorm sneered. While he held the struggling grounder with one servo, he pulled out his standard blaster with the other, holding it under the mech's jaw, just beneath the helm. Crankshaft stilled at that immediately.

"Y-you must have mistaken me with someone." – he said, a bit desperate.

"Wrong answer." – but the Seeker's bravado was trashed when something lightly knocked on his wings. Looking back he could see nothing, but the voice that whispered into his audial was all the more real.

"Put that blaster down Seeker. Slowly."

It all fell into place for Sunstorm in a klik.

"Ohh… so you are the invisible Autobot? Ghost, Mirage, Phantom or whatever you are called?" – he stood very still, lowering the blaster, but holding onto the other mech still. – "And the hologram making one, right? Hound?"

"Slag." – was the only reaction from the Crankshaft-lookalike mech, looking sheepish and resigned. – "Now, what do we do?"

Before they could decide on something rash, Sunstorm spoke up.

"Look, if you are looking for the youngling, we have no quarrel."

"What do you mean, Seeker?" – the disembodied voice asked from behind. – "What youngling?"

"Please… don't take me for a fool. Your saboteur just stole the latest plans a few orns ago, I heard it Soundwave reporting last shift. No reason to make another covert mission so soon. But we did make bets whether you'd try to free the Air Commander's youngling. Apparently, I won."

The mech who looked like Crankshaft tried but failed to hide the smirk that appeared his faceplates. – "What are you going to do about it?"

"I can tell you the way and if I ever get to be captured, you put a word in on my side?"

"Why would you help?"

"He is a youngling!" – the sneer on the golden faceplates was almost frightening. – "Megatron is wrong to harm a Seekerling!"

"All right. You have a deal." – Mirage was impressed by the unknown Seeker's bravado and quick thinking. Besides it was apparently true that Seekers put their younglings' interest before anything else, even their loyalty to the Decepticon cause and its terrifying leader. It must have taken guts to act against Megatron for whatever reasons.

"You have to cross the command center and find the hidden door behind the throne to a small corridor. No other entrances. The door is locked and only Megatron and Soundwave know the code."

"We can deal with that. Any traps?"

"None. They didn't have the time and they didn't think anyone would attempt to free him."

"How many mechs are in the command center now?"

"Three, including Soundwave. His shift ends in a few breems, so you'd better wait a bit. The rest…" – Sunstorm thought for a few kliks then nodded. It still wouldn't be suspicious afterwards. – "We can make a little ruckus down in the hangars to provide a little distraction."

Hound smirked again, this time openly. He started to trust the Seeker, no matter that they have never seen each other. – "We'll have a distraction soon, I think." – Mirage chuckled too, affirming it.

"All right then. Good luck." – Sunstorm was satisfied that the two spies came prepared and watched them – or rather the apparition that looked Crankshaft – go. He'd have to tell about it to Starscream immediately. Thing were going to get interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>Break free<strong>

The monitors in the big chamber flickered and changed to show the many observed areas in and around the Decepticon base, checked by the two mechs on duty, Runabout and Runamuck. Soundwave as was his job sat at the communications console, checking the airwaves for anything suspicious when Laserbeak reported in. The flying symbiont didn't even hide her disdain at the poorly hid Autobots approaching the base on foot. Soundwave almost dismissed their approach as a decoy when he recognized the smallest member of the group. Jazz wasn't to be taken lightly.

Nearing the end of his shift, Soundwave stood, disconnected from the console and decided to investigate it himself. The saboteur would make a very good source of information if they could catch him. Ordering a squad to meet with him at the area where the Autobots approached, the telepath left the monitor room without a second glance. The mechs on duty would observe anything that happened otherwise and report if needed.

Crankshaft stepped into the command center with still morose faceplates, bad mood almost visible in his EM field. He gestured towards the squirming Battlechargers in a movement half threat, half resignation. - "Soundwave ordered me to take the remainder of your shift. You are to report to him at the lower D-E corridor. The Autobots have some frontliner with them."

The two big idiots didn't even ask for confirmation of the order, 'Crankshaft' mused. They run from the command center like Soundwave promised them high grade.

"Right, so the hidden door. Mirage, lock down the place, will you?" – He moved behind the elaborate throne of the Decepticon leader and started to pat down the wall in search of the signs of a doorway. It wasn't even hard to find and they were in the short corridor, ending in a single, locked door. Hound put the hacking device onto the solid metal, by the locking mechanism and the small device promptly established contact with it, rotating through the possible codes. Mirage went back to the monitors to check the status of their diversion and warn Hound if anyone approached.

But they weren't disturbed before, in a mere breem they heard the klik and the door slid into the wall. Inside, they saw Blackfoot, slightly worse for wear, but mostly uninjured and trying to hide by the berth that comprised the only furniture in the cell. Seeing what he thought to be Crankshaft, the youngling didn't move.

"Come on, Blackfoot, don't be deceived by appearances. We are Autobots and we came to free you."

"We? – Blackfoot looked at Hound still suspicious. The scout deactivated his hologram but Blackfoot wasn't familiar with the rarely seen green mech and he didn't want to trust them on such a little. But he got a sudden bout of _hope/trust/free_ from Starscream, through the bond and it made him think. Could he dare to hope?

"You know Mirage, right?" – Hound gestured towards the noblemech, appearing for a few kliks to show himself.

"Yeah."

"Come on, then. Stick close to Mirage and don't let him go."

Blackfoot stood and crossed the cell to them, suspicion evaporating, but he sent a _hope/free/where_ back to Starscream. The Seeker only answered with a burst of _love/glee_ before shutting down the link.

"What about Sire?" – he asked, not sure if the Autobots would want to free Starscream or even that it would be a good idea for him to go to them.

"Sorry youngling… we came for you." – Hound looked at the youngling sadly, understanding his position perfectly. He would have to leave his Sire again, and in a very precarious situation, under suspicion from Megatron and charged with betraying the cause already. But maybe that Seeker they met with could help him… or at least tell him about them.

-o-o-o-

In the meanwhile, the easily discovered Autobot rescue squad with three still high and happy frontliners and one very irate saboteur were under heavy fire from the Decepticon base and quite trapped in a ruined building if they didn't want to become target practice for the Cons. Jazz cursed Prowl who came up with this plan about the thousandth times while he tried to hold back the excited sparklings… sorry, the responsible Autobot warriors accompanying him from attacking the Con base head on, outnumbered about ten to one. Not to mention Soundwave whom he saw among their attackers.

He sure hoped that Mirage and Hound had an easier time inside. He'd rather have a dozen Decepticons to deal with than the twins and Hot Rod together. Jazz decided there and then to never put the three of them into one squad ever, for any reason. They managed to bring out the worst from each other and consequently from him too.

Getting a signal on an encrypted frequency, he knew that the first phase of the plan was accomplished and so they too could think of retreating somehow. Or rather he could think of it and try to convince the frontliners not to attack but retreat. Jazz sighed heavily. It would be easier to convince Soundwave to shed his visor and mask and pole-dance for them. He was sorely tempted to try.

"Right, Blackfoot is in the clear, we can move out too."

"Awww, Jazz, we could take them!"

"They have clear sight of our route back, so we could just press on!"

"Yeah, right, they'd totally not expect that!"

Jazz hid his faceplates in his servos and contemplated crying. No, it would ruin his reputation.

"And I guess attacking a full Decepticon base is logical because they don't expect us to." – no, they wouldn't understand sarcasm, bad Jazz.

"Sure. Why not?" – Sunstreaker looked at him quizzically. – "We can always find another exit on the other side."

Jazz kept reminding himself that the frontliners weren't, despite of all evidence to the contrary, idiots or stupid. They were just excited and careless to the point of recklessness, besides wanting to save their friend, and if unable to do so, then just fight for him. The only problem was that during the small discussion they got totally encircled and kept under fire from all sides. There it led to let reckless subordinates distract you, Jazz thought dourly.

"Keep hitting the ones behind." – he ordered, cutting through the banter – "We must have a way out or we'll be so much scrap."

"All right, Jazz, don't get your diodes in a bunch." – fortunately for Sideswipe, he was continuously firing at the Cons or Jazz might have just taught him not to poke at a spec ops commander. Still, with all of them firing it wasn't enough to clear the Cons from their retreat route. Sunstreaker was hit first, a grunt signalling only the wound where his shoulder started to smoke as the beam went clean through, disabling his right arm for the time being, but it was clear to Jazz that it was only a matter of time before they got overwhelmed.

The earlier idea of attacking the Cons head on just became a bit more of a possibility as their other options were rapidly dwindling in number. Hot Rod got a hit in the sensitive spoiler, disabusing him completely from his earlier good mood. Sideswipe was showered by half-melted shrapnel raining on him from an overhang formerly, now just exploded slag. It must have caused a number of injuries on his frame, because he was suddenly that much more serious, clearly hiding a lot of pain from the rest of them.

Jazz just opened his mouth to order them to attack, before they got amortized slowly by relentless fire, when he was hit from behind. His back exploded in pain and he was thrown forward, fortunately caught by Sunstreaker. The impact was still jarring and the saboteur had no time to say anything before darkness encompassed him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **"normal speech", "_comm line_", _worry/fear:_ emotions through the bond

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet Child o' Mine - Chapter 9<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Going<strong>

Sunstorm literally flew towards the Elite Trine's chambers, eager to tell Starscream what he just saw. In his hurry, he didn't notice the mech standing just around the corner and crashed into him heavily. The flier who struggled to get up from their tangle felt distinctly cold and Sunstorm had a sudden suspicion as to who it was. Rolling quickly away, he just avoided by a blast of frigid air.

"Stop it, Icestorm! Starscream did say no to storms in the base! Or do you want mine in exchange?" – he was exaggerating of course, as he could never control his gift the way the Rainmakers could.

"Watch then where you're going Blaze Boy!" – the blue Seeker actually liked Sunstorm, but since Acid Storm, who boasted of being their future trine leader, had they ever found their third, always sneered at the younger Seeker, he never showed it to the golden jet. – "What the Pit made you fly in the base anyway? That one is forbidden too!"

"Say, Icestorm, you heard about that youngling, right?"

"Yeah. You spread the story to every one of us."

"I believe I just saw Autobots in the base trying to break him out. Isn't it marvelous?" – Sunstorm was almost as excited if it was his sparkling, which of course wouldn't happen for many vorns yet, if ever. He was barely more than a sparkling by Seeker standards. Icestorm looked at him suspiciously.

"Autobots in the base? And don't you… you know want to report it?"

"That's why I was in a hurry! Soundwave had to deal with an idiot attack, Shockwave's locked in with an experiment and you don't disturb Lord Megatron's recharge cycle if you want to remain in the land of the functioning. So Starscream is the highest ranking officer."

"You could've just raised the alarm." – Icestorm didn't understand the golden Seeker sometimes, much as he was kinda… cute for it. He often sounded as though his own radiation addled his processor. Which was probably the case.

"But the alarm was already on for the attack!" – right, Sunstorm knew that he was prevaricating somewhat, but then, it was for a good cause. Primus would surely forgave him this much under the circumstances.

Though he would've rather stayed, as the blue Seeker was almost nice sometimes and definitely good-looking, even if not in Starscream's class, but he really wanted to tell this to the Air Commander. So, somewhat ruing the wasted opportunity to talk with him without the snobbish Acid Storm, but the golden Seeker managed to leave Icestorm and knocked on Starscream's door. When the serious and drawn-looking Starscream opened the door, he started to speak so fast that he was unknowingly emulating an Autobot named Blurr.

"Commander, Commander, I have great news! I saw two Autobots just now and they are going to free Blackfoot, I'm sure! There is an attack from other Autobots also, but I'm sure it is just a diversion to draw away Soundwave!"

Starscream looked incredulously at Sunstorm. He didn't think the Seeker was lying but he was known to act… strangely on occasions. Thundercracker too was wary behind him, but willing to listen to the excited Seeker.

"Right. Two Autobots in the base and only you saw them."

"Yes, well, one had a hologram of Crankshaft, you know Commander, the grounder who was deactivated yesterorn in that brawl, and the other was invisible."

"And they told you that they were going to free Blackfoot."

"Yes. I helped them by telling the way!" – Sunstorm was beaming at Starscream, sure that his Commander would be approving his actions so far. – "No grounder saw it I swear!"

Starscream and Thundercracker looked at each other, quickly thinking the situation over. Skywarp was away on a mission that they weren't told, but the teleporter was the one among them the hardest one to hold if needed. If Blackfoot was freed, they could get away too. Starscream opened up the bond to his son and promptly got a _hope/free/where_ from the youngling, clearly signalling that something positive happened, even in the imprecise way of the emotions. He couldn't help but answer him with a _love/glee_ and decide that he'd trust Sunstorm's information.

"Right. TC, we are going for it. Sunstorm, you haven't seen us, haven't heard of us, and you most definitely didn't see any Autobots, right?"

"Clear, Commander! I was chatting with Icestorm all joor and missed all excitement!"

Starscream almost smiled at the younger Seeker. Sunstorm in the last few groons grew from a relative nobody into a hidden power, simply by spreading information and being friendly with the other Seekers. Of course he was very young yet and untrined as well, but the mech had potential. He'd told as much to the slightly snobbish Acid Storm just a few orns before – the golden Seeker would nicely complete their duo into a full trine. Maybe not in the way the Rainmaker wanted it, he smirked; Sunstorm had a leadership quality in him once he shed his insecurities and grew a bit in experiences.

As Air Commander, it was his duty to care for his mechs not only in the air, but socially too, by helping them to get over their misgivings and make connections among them. Seekers functioned best in Trines and a good leader had to help along potential members if they were too shy to act or otherwise hampered in it. Even in a midst of a situation like now, while they were collecting their most important belongings, knowing that they wouldn't return soon.

The Seekers were the only thing that made him loath to leave, as it felt too much of abandoning them to Megatron's mercy. But Sunstorm and Darkwind were both careful to cover their involvement and although Starscream knew that Soundwave would suspect them, he trusted Megatron being blind enough to blame it all on the Autobots and their Trine only. He could take the warlord's wrath once Blackfoot was safe and they left the Decepticons.

"Support Darkwind for Air Commander. He is a good Seeker." – he advised Sunstorm before leaving. – "and don't let Soundwave sow doubts in the air ranks. Remind every Seeker that we don't listen to outsiders in our matters."

"I will Commander!"

Halfway out, Starscream turned back once more. – "And Sunstorm… remind the Seekers why we joined the Decepticons. Also where we could have winglets now. Not here, as it was proven."

Sunstorm looked uncharacteristically somber as he answered. – "Understand Commander. I will."

* * *

><p><strong>Gone<strong>

Hound tried to be as nonchalant leaving as he was on the way in but it was harder with Mirage hiding Blackfoot and the alarm wailing its unnerving sound all over the base, awakening every Decepticon who scurried on the corridors, trying to find anyone in charge. As far as they understood from snatched bits of overheard conversations, Soundwave and Megatron were both where the so-called Autobot attack occurred and neither of them so far suspected it to be a decoy for another mission. It definitely paid off to have Jazz with the other team.

But they knew that it wasn't going to last for long, so they needed to leave as fast as they could, before being discovered. Invisibility lasted only as long as no mech ran into you in full tilt, crashing into seemingly empty air. It was highly fortunate that Blackfoot reacted fast while Mirage was brought down, and with a strong swipe of his arm hit the unfortunate Con across the faceplates, breaking both optics.

"Quick thinking Blackfoot, well done." – he praised the youngling while putting the Con offline with a well-practiced move and helping the dazed Mirage up.

"O-okay." – it was the first time he looked a real youngling, with an almost scared expression and staring nervously at his own servo which has just harmed a mech. Probably the first time, Hound mused, that he had to put his training into reality. Never an easy experience and he was still a youngster. Poor kid, he had to grow up way too fast.

"Don't worry about that." – he touched a tense shoulder gently – "it was necessary and you did well."

"Yeah…" – Blackfoot knew that the Autobot was right, but he still felt bad for hurting an unknown mech. He was a danger to them and so it had to be done and Blackfoot didn't even hesitate before swinging the punch. He also knew that the Decepticon wouldn't have the slightest compunction had he had a chance of injuring them, raising the alarm or even deactivating any of them if he could. In a way the whole experience was sobering to see firsthand what his Sire told him about, how the Decepticon army and its mechs worked.

He also knew now for sure that he'd never make a good Decepticon, couldn't even play it as a role for long. He gladly admitted that he was too soft, too squeamish for it and admired his Sire even more to be able to survive and moreover to fight his way to the top in this environment – and keep his better nature untouched more or less in the process too. Blackfoot knew that his softer, more forgiving emotions existed in Starscream too, still after so many vorns of being the Decepticon Air Commander – but he kept them carefully walled off, hidden and only shown to his Trine, to his Seekers somewhat and lately to his son.

It didn't take long to think this all over, as they were running on the endless corridors of the base, avoiding the occasional Cons running this way and that. But before they could leave their luck ran out. A squad leader appeared in the doorway in front of them, backed up by two other Cons and yelled angrily at what he saw to be Crankshaft for going the wrong way, herding him and his companions unknowingly towards the way they wanted to avoid. Where the other team was doing its best to create a disturbance for them to get away.

"Slag." – was Hound's only reaction to it and Mirage agreed wordlessly. He couldn't even get away with Blackfoot, the Cons didn't leave enough space for the two of them to get through. "_Slip away as soon as you can with Blackfoot_."- he commed to the noblemech – "_I'll try to join Jazz's group when we're close enough._"

"_Be careful_." – was Mirage's laconic answer. They were both spec ops, well used to danger and in general being among Decepticons. Mirage had it easier but Hound has so far passed as Decepticon well and they've always returned from their missions.

"_Always, 'Raj_."

They followed the Cons out of a smaller exit and assessed the situation quickly. Jazz's team was under heavy fire and surrounded completely in a ruin, not far from the base. They could hardly dare to pop up for a quick shot or two before having to duck again – and Hound couldn't even see Jazz himself, only the three brighter coloured frontliners with him. Maybe he was doing his special kind of magic and sow destruction to the Cons, Hound tried to convince himself, but the uncomfortable feeling grew in him.

* * *

><p><strong>Doing<strong>

When Jazz was shot and fell into Sunstreaker's servos limp and unmoving, Sideswipe started to worry a tiny bit. They really had a problem on their servos with drawing a bit more attention to themselves than they intended. When he saw Megatron appearing in the exit, Sideswipe gulped nervously and his servo tightened on his blaster. This was truly getting out of what they could handle; the warlord alone would be enemy enough for the three of them together and he had half his army around him too.

The twins have secretly itched to try and make it into a two-on-one fight with the silver mech for quite a long time. He was a former gladiator as they heard and so were they; measuring themselves against an opponent servo in servo to servo fight was in their nature and something they would gladly do so. But, as it was kinda hard to get Megatron away from his army, so it never happened so far. The twins were reckless and bold in battles but suicide tendencies they definitely didn't have. No matter what Ratchet thought.

Nor would it happen here, as Sunny was already injured and himself had some painful itching from the molten shrapnel earlier – and they had the offline and injured-looking Jazz too to think of. Pretty soon, he was sure that the Cons would get bored of shooting and blitzed them – and they would stand no chance really as things stood. Had they helped enough to the other team?

"Sides! Sides! What the frag are we doing now?" – great, Hot Rod apparently realized the same and looked at him to make up some sort of a solution. Why him? He was no officer either. Jazz showed no intention of getting online any time soon and neither of them was a medic to fix whatever was wrong with him. But they would have to do something… a questioning look at Sunstreaker yielded no answer, only some shrugs while he continued shooting and Sideswipe cursed inwardly. If… no, no, no… WHEN they got back he would borrow some of Prowl's tactical datapads. Just in case.

"Okay," – he said in a croaked voice – "Sunny, you carry Jazz, while Roddy and I force a way out somehow. Maybe we get lucky and get through."

The fact that Sunstreaker didn't object showed just how serious his injury was. When the battered trio rose from the ruins of the building the Cons surged forward, almost every mech was eager to have the glory of capturing an Autobot warrior, and able to do it in front of their leader at that. The battlefield became chaotic, even the commanders and lieutenants loosing sight of the lines, not even caring much the Autobots were so much outnumbered. It wasn't even surprising that a stray beam from a fumbling blaster found a target where no mech expected it.

Mirage's angry shout at the damage to his disruptor was lost in the general ruckus and battlefield noise, but the appearance of two mechs did draw some optics. Unfortunately for them, one pair belonged to Soundwave who recognized both the spy and the youngling at once. Despite of his earlier doubts, the telepath didn't hesitate a klik before notifying Megatron of the youngling's escape. If anything, the youngling's escape with an Autobot just proved him that Starscream was not betraying them… this time.

Mirage tried to drag Blackfoot to safety, but such a place was hard to find in the impromptu, chaotic battlefield. Impossible really. Hound saw them appearing and changed course, barreling towards the pair, desperate to help his friend and their charge too. On the middle of the battlefield, Sideswipe with his team and with Jazz on Sunstreaker's shoulder tried to break through, but the Cons were just simply too many. Desperate, messy shooting in any direction; explosions of every kind and shouting, yelling, screaming merged into a cacophony of impending death.

But as everything seemed to go south, they suddenly saw the Decepticon attack relenting, their fire weakening and the mechs turning their attention from them towards… towards the sky. From above the Con base a pair of fliers rose and attacked Megatron's forces from behind, where they expected no enemy. The cavalry came, albeit in a quite unexpected form. The two Seekers were past their doubts and the Autobots' actions put them into a position where they didn't have many options.

Once Blackfoot was free and with the Autobots again, Megatron's hold on Starscream became only as much as he could exact with force. With the warlord's handling of Blackfoot he lost any loyalty Starscream may have held before towards the cause and owed to himself personally. That his Trine went wherever he decided to was not even a matter of debate; in a true Trine extremely strong reasons were required to question the Trine-leader's decision and this was not the case there. Skywarp and Thundercracker supported him fully in this, even so far as leaving the Decepticons with him.

Starscream had a more personal dilemma really; he didn't want to join the Bots, but Blackfoot was connected to them with a number of very strong ties. Since he gave his word to Prowl to let Blackfoot decide his fate, he had to allow the youngling to go to Iacon – but at the same time he didn't want to leave his son again for a long-long time, wanting to teach him flying and to be a real Seeker. It meant that they would have to join the Autobots - at least as much as they'd let them do that.

He wasn't all that sure about that part either. Sure, Blackfoot alluded that the Prime could annul his vow of loyalty to the Decepticons, sure, Prowl was hinting that their defection would be welcomed, but still. After all, he was the Decepticon Air Commander, the highest ranking of his faction to ever defect and besides well known and hated by most Autobots. Starscream was fairly sure that many a Bot would gladly nail his wings to the walls of their quarters as a trophy – even if he defected.

But having Optimus Prime and Prowl on their side had to count for something, he concluded. If they declared them defectors and trustworthy, they could take on the rest of the Autobots and their prejudices; after all it wouldn't be that much different from the Cons, who hated and envied Seekers and infighting was actually encouraged there. Starscream was sure that nothing that the Bots would do against them could come close to what they had to fight off every orn in the Decepticon army.

This musing was done between the moment they left their quarters and when they killed the first guard who stood on their way, near the exit. They could have turned back even after that, but they didn't want to, not any more. Skywarp was babbling something in the comm about Prowl discovering him and telling him to return and help and if Soundwave was catching any of that, he'd know where they stood. The black Seeker wasn't the most covert mech by nature and excitement made him even more careless.

Just as they left the base Starscream saw the developing battle out of what they'd thought to be just a diversion for the covert mission. If it was that, then it apparently went astray, as the Autobots – those flamboyantly coloured frontliners – were encircled completely and under heavy fire. As things stood they'd be overrun in breems and either taken as prisoners or deactivated on the spot, neither promising much good for their continued wellbeing.

With a quick look at Thundercracker, to ascertain that the blue Seeker would follow him, Starscream decided to intervene. Diving towards the unprotected backs of the Cons, they opened fire at them, making short work of the unsuspecting mechs and creating a chaos in their lines. As he pulled up, Starscream saw Megatron, raving mad with fury and shaking his fist towards them; but he didn't stop to listen to what he had to say. Probably just obscenities and threats as he usually did. Lately he was more often frothing in the mouth than not, when things didn't go as he planned them.

Turning back in a tight roll for another pass, they now had to avoid the sporadic return fire too, but it was worth it; the Autobots were able to break through and started to retreat towards their base. Thundercracker flattened some grounder Cons with his sonic boom, and Starscream saw with great satisfaction that Soundwave too was covering his audials uselessly. Fragger deserved it. The Autobots had the black and white saboteur with them as well, apparently offline. But just as the situation started to normalize, several things happened at once.

At the side of the battlefield, suddenly two frames started to take form, appearing from nothingness. As Starscream recognized them, he knew why. The invisible spy had Blackfoot with him under the cover of his disruptor; which was probably shot by accident and they lost their cover. The chaotic battle suddenly swirled to center on them as many mechs from both sides ran or flew towards them whether to kill or apprehend the young mech and his companion or help them to get away.

But by a twisted design of fate, Megatron was the closest to them. The enraged warlord lifted his fusion cannon at the youngster, while he looked at the Seeker sneering, gloating, triumphant. They had no cover, no way to hide or get away, the thoughts flashed through the Seeker like lightning. The spy's armour might be able to protect him enough to survive, but Blackfoot's most definitely was not strong enough – Starscream knew the design parameters of that frame intimately to know it for sure.

He didn't hear the sneering words that Megatron spewed only saw his mouth-plates move. He didn't need to. He could imagine them quite well: _you failed yet again, Starscream_… he heard them a lot lately. But he wouldn't fail now, desperation made him even faster than ever before. He dived desperately towards them, but his null-rays have always been ineffective against Megatron and he fired them futilely this time too. He screamed loudly as he saw the deadly violet glow gathering at the cannon's muzzle, knew that he would be late, everyone would be late and he would lose Blackfoot once again and forever this time.

He wasn't in time. The purple glow shot out of the cannon's barrel and Starscream saw the sick satisfaction dancing on the warlord's faceplates. He ignored the rest of the battle, the shooting, the yells and screams, the sounds of mechs fighting and dying; he only saw that small shape that stood frozen in the line of fire and flew with the speed only he was capable of attaining, faster than ever before, pushing several of his systems well into the red zone - but which still wasn't quite enough… he would arrive late but maybe he could still grab the youngling's frame and hope that by a miracle he survived and a medic could save him.

But it wasn't needed. At the last possible klik another frame, a bigger one rose in front of him and took the violent discharge of the fusion cannon. Its force threw him into Blackfoot, the violet energy roiling angrily around them, angry like its master that it could not engulf its intended target. Black and energy-blackened reddish-orange tumbled on the ground, with the slowly dissipating purple energy crackling on their plates, while Starscream barreled down Megatron like the warlord was nothing more than a bowling pin - and when he started to rise again, the later arriving Thundercracker flattened him with a desperate boom.

Autobots and Seekers converged by this time on the three fallen figures, out of which Mirage rose the first, having more or less shielded from the blast by the other two – but even he had some smoking joints to show for the blast. But the other two was definitely worse. They were both blackened now, any colours they had was burnt and peeled back to reveal naked metals by the energies the fusion cannon – and that was only the surface effect of it.

None of them moved for a while and Starscream, landing beside them needed a few kliks to even tell them apart; the spoilered frames interestingly similar in shape, like a smaller and a larger version of the same mold. But after a while he realized that one of them was definitely bigger and he vented a small relief at the fact that the smaller frame moved first. Blackfoot's first _'owww'_ was greeted by a relieved sigh from the Autobots gathering around and the Seekers who landed beside them – the two groups were, for awhile quite unified by their worry for the youngling.

But they weren't out of danger just yet. They were still outnumbered by the Decepticons and Megatron too started to get up, murderously angry at the Seekers, the Autobots and his own army too that let his captive escape and wasn't even able to deactivate three mechs outnumbered and encircled by them. He roared and shouted his razzing and flak at them while ordering everyone to get themselves together and finish the damaged and retreating Autobots. He quite ignored the dents and injuries that the Seeker caused on his frame – they were only minor inconveniences to him.

All Autobots were by this time visible and together and they were still less in numbers than their attackers, not to mention the offline and damaged Jazz, Blackfoot and the critical-looking Hot Rod. Shaken up by the events of the joor, under increasing fire again and carrying their wounded, they tried to retreat towards safety. Even by counting the two Seekers in, they still had little chance – not that it discouraged them.

It became much easier when a purple flash appeared in their midst and took the injured mechs out of immediate danger. Skywarp couldn't teleport them to Iacon of course, as it was too far even for his talent, but by freeing the servos of the Autobots he gave them a little more chance to escape. Starscream was torn between going after him to help Blackfoot or stay to help the Autobots; what finally decided it was when Skywarp returned and hurriedly told him that Prowl, Ratchet and a few more were on their way and able to help the injured bots where he took them.

It gave the little group more free servos to fight and the Seekers a peace of mind to help them; together they could retreat orderly, Prowl taking over orchestrating it and shoot down enough Cons to discourage the rest from pursuing them. Even Megatron gave up the futile chase after he saw Skywarp's unmistakable effect among them and Soundwave's repeated orders failed to draw any of the other Seekers into the battlefield. The telepath was sure that the Seekers were only passively supporting their commander and their failure to appear on the battlefield was only because it was Starscream himself on the other side.

Megatron didn't like it at all and promised them punishment aplenty once they got back to the base; but since Darkwind was still away, the Seekers had no real leader and therefore couldn't be blamed for not following orders. After all, it was the reason why they had an Air Commander; to convey the orders of the leader of the whole – and mostly grounder - army to the always standoffish fliers. Losing their winglord, the Seekers fell into an anarchy that was more than slightly exaggerated to fool Megatron and disperse the blame.

* * *

><p><strong>Done<strong>

Prowl and his party arrived at the agreed upon place just after he saw the black Seeker teleporting away. After going into the abandoned factory they saw three frames lying on the ground, instead of the one expected. Ratchet was on their side immediately, cursing under his vents at the condition of the spoilered frames. Only Blackfoot was online and he too seemed dazed, unable to stand and nearly incoherent.

"What happened?"

"Fragging Megatron's cannon, that's what happened. To both of them."

Ratchet snarled his answer, while his servos were flying over Hot Rod's blackened plating, sparking with stray energies still and bleeding energon in a dozen places. He was by far in the worst condition, Megatron's shot basically vaporizing a good chunk of his side, taking the arm on that side too and frying a lot of his systems by the energies of the shot. Blackfoot, partially protected by him got only a grazing shot that still made short work of his far lighter armour but apparently didn't cause serious injuries underneath.

First Aid cast a cursory scan on the youngling, but moved on to the offline Jazz immediately. He had a nasty shot in the black plates but it didn't seem to go through and while it destroyed the back struts and tore a lot of wires and tubes, it didn't seem to hit anything vital. He lost a lot of energon though and the younger medic hurried to stop his bleeding and get some into him. Fortunately he was in a firm stasis, unlikely to come out any time soon, to feel the hasty work on his back.

Prowl hugged the still shaking youngling briefly, but he had a lot still to do. If the hurried comms were any indication, the Autobot group was still in a precarious situation and needing their help to escape. Directing his mechs towards the battle while keeping enough around to defend the injured he checked on the medics.

"Can they be moved soon?"

"Jazz can be now if needed." – First Aid answered first, having immobilized the saboteur to avoid any more damage to his back struts and closing off the torn energon lines. He was out of immediate danger, albeit needing a lot of work still, back in the med-bay. The medic moved over to Ratchet, to help him stabilize the flame-coloured mech. If the older medic's scowling intensity was any indication, he was not in a good way, although he didn't waste his ex-vents to answer to Prowl's question.

Together the two medics worked feverishly to stabilize Hot Rod, to patch all the ruptured lines that bled his energon onto the ground, to rewire hastily the most important lines and to yank out the blackened circuitry that sent faulty messages onto his network. The fusion cannon was a nasty weapon, causing not only plenty of physical damage but throwing any electronic systems into haywire with its incredible energies. The damaged, misfiring systems then caused everything else they connected to collapsing, capable of deactivating a mech on the cascade failures alone, even if the more visible damage was patched.

Blackfoot sat on the ground shivering, the stray energies running through his systems too, only slightly less potent, weakened by the time it reached him. He felt it as numerous error and pain messages flooding his HUD, but even he knew that they weren't immediately life-threatening and his self-repair has already started on them. What he absolutely didn't understand was why the other mech shielded him from Megatron's blast. It went way beyond repaying his debt, likely costing him his very life.

A blast of that fusion cannon in full strength was perfectly capable of deactivating a grown mech with armour on at once if he got it straight on. Pit, it was capable of doing that still, despite of two medics working on him. Hot Rod must have known that, he was a warrior, he had to have seen Megatron's weapon before, known how deadly it was. Why did he put himself in front of that blast then? To save a youngling he despised and still occasionally called a Con spawn?

Despite of their… truce, matters were still heavily wrought with mistrust between them. Blackfoot was even surprised to see the flame-coloured mech with the rescue party, although that, he could put down as the mech wanting to repay the debt that he felt owing to the youngling who saved his life in that terrorist attack. Yes, that much he could understand and even consider possible from a mech like Hot Rod. A daring, showy rescue, firefight with the Cons, taunting them and yelling insults that he could later boast with flair to the others in the base. It was totally in character for the Bot.

But not a dangerous, likely fatal act to save a youngling he had such a tenuous, nervous and mistrusting relationship. Not going against Megatron's fusion cannon and expecting to live to boast of the experience. Not rescuing him when everyone else had failed in it in some way. Blackfoot had to consider that after all, the mech could still surprise him by doing something completely unexpected and truly heroic.

Blackfoot sat there, trembling occasionally, as a stray charge still hit a sensitive circuit or raw node and dumbly stared at them. Hot Rod looked like dead with all the blackened, colourless plates, the sparking wires and the pools of energon on the ground, but since the medics still worked on him, he supposed that there was still a chance for him to make it. Had he got more strength, he'd have offered help to the medics, but realistically he knew that even standing upright was outside of his abilities still.

Lifting his gaze he saw Prowl, standing completely still, optics turning inwards and directing the affair through his comm and from his mental map that served him almost as well as he could truly see the battlefield with his own optics. He knew of no other mech who was capable of doing this, trusting his battle computer completely to act correctly from the scant information of the markers that each mech carried and the chaotic comm messages.

He saw their guards shifting uneasily sometimes, hearing the noises of the battle as they were not far but unable to join it, leaving their comrades to their fate – and the mercy of the tactician to command them well from afar. It mustn't have been easy to trust him thus. It was so different to hear the noises, to see Prowl in deep concentration, to know that his friends, his Sire was fighting for their lives nearby. Different from being left behind on the base and know intellectually only that they went into a battle and might never return.

It made his spark swirly uneasily, nervously and not from the small shocks still running through his frame. Starscream was there, he heard the familiar screech sometimes; his trine-mates, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker… mech whom he knew and loved. They were fighting for their lives… because of him. To free him, to save him, to let him have a choice of growing up as he wanted to. It was strange how many friends he made in such a short time after being alone for vorns, ostracized and despised as a Con-spawn… Blackfoot wasn't even sure what made the difference.

"Blackfoot! Can you come over here?" – he heard First Aid's soft voice calling him from where he was working. – "He needs someone to hold him steady."

Hot Rod seemingly started to regain some consciousness and the pain that must have been cursing all over him made him jerk and twitch randomly, fouling the medics' work. Ratchet looked stormy and almost hopeless, freezing Blackfoot's spark for a nanoklik. He'd always looked this way when he was about to loose a… no, stop that thought. He shuffled over and after a klik of unnerved staring of where to hold the damaged plating down, he gently touched the whole shoulder until he was holding it with a firm servo, restraining the involuntary twitches. He found that his left arm was quite unresponsive too – so far it wasn't even noticeable among the dozens of error messages scrolling uselessly in his HUD.

He looked bad from up close too. What plating wasn't torn and damaged by the blast was cut by the medics to reach underneath. His bright, flashy colours were almost completely gone, seared by the shot and blackened by soot and dirt. The spoiler was completely torn off and Blackfoot's own twitched in nervous sympathy. The left arm was also gone, along with most of his frame on that side – the innards, wires, tubes and circuitry hanging out was an obscene sight, especially with the hasty patches and repairs done there.

The medics were both working in his open chest cavity, servos deep in his innards, pulling out far more fried circuitry than they replaced. It was sick. No, it was frightening to see them like this, seemingly vandalizing a living mech's insides, like scavengers would a fallen prey… or torturers would a helpless prisoner, his dazed processor whispered. Blackfoot shook his helm strongly to dispel such thoughts. They were medics. He knew them, learned from them, helped them. They knew what they were doing.

The frantic work slowed after a few more breems. It had to, Blackfoot thought, there weren't much else in there that could go wrong, that could be pulled out without a full med-bay, life support and whatnot. He still held onto the twitching shoulder and secretly he was glad that it had not gone gray while under his servo. He wasn't sure how he would have reacted to that. A memory rose up suddenly, one that he managed to suppress during all those vorns…

_A gold striped black servo, exactly like his own that held it. Yanked it in fact, the small youngling trying to pull his Carrier from under the rubble that used to be their home. He was quiet, well used to hiding and not calling attention to himself, crying only inwards, because Carrier was offline and didn't answer, his friend who went into the house for energon goodies didn't answer either, because the whole village was quiet and no mech else answered, because he could only smell burning and stale energon from everywhere…_

_He was grown enough to know how dead mechs' colours bled out, leaving them gray and cold. His Carrier's servo, the only thing he could clearly see of him was not yet that lack of colour, Blackfoot could see the beautiful golden stripe still, even though he didn't answer. So he hoped. He ran back to the house as soon as the explosions and the mechs' yelling stopped, from the small hideout in the garden, where he played out the roles from the datapad-novels and movies. Unlike those stories, it was nothing heroic, only a few joors of hiding in terror and listening to the Decepticons systematically destroy everything and every mech in the village._

_And now, when he dared to go back he found his Carrier alive. How long, he didn't know. Nor could he pull him out or clear away the rubble. Nor was there any mech nearby to help him. He sat there, holding onto a servo, his processor frozen in disbelief, shock and helplessness. Swiftstrike never regained consciousness, never came online even for a nanoklik again. The burning rubble shifted instead and fell, barely missing the youngling frozen on the spot. It tore the already damaged servo off and buried the rest of the frame under several more tons of metal._

_Blackfoot stared dimly at the servo as the golden stripe lost its shine and the beautiful black thinned out to dead grey. He thought to cry but even that thought was far away, removed from him and distant like somemech else thought it. He stood numbly, holding the servo still and like a drone moved away, stumbling on the uneven ground. He felt the finality of the klik but he didn't look back. No reason to watch the ruins where he lived so far. Move. Escape. Hide. Wait for Sire to come back. He has always come._

Blackfoot came out of the memory trip with a jerking under his servo. Hurriedly, he held Hot Rod unmoving, shamed by his lapse of attention, but when he saw the medics straighten up, he felt a cautious hope. Another twitch caught his attention, Hot Rod's servo moved this time and Blackfoot was suddenly gripped by a very strange feeling. The soot-blackened arm had only a patch of yellowish-gold at the end that showed up from his colours. It was way beyond queer after the memory he just had. It was ominous.

"He'll be fine now, once we get him to med-bay." – Ratchet was still angry but in a way relieved too and past caring that it showed. Prowl nodded, absorbing the information along with everything else and took time to answer him.

"The others are on their way here too. Megatron ordered a retreat." – he paused, listening to reports and continued after a breem – "No casualties and only light injuries among them."

"Thank Primus." – was Ratchet's only reaction. – "He was touch and go for a good while."

"Prowl…" – Blackfoot was hesitant to ask but he had to know. – "What about Sire? I think I saw him just before… before the shot."

"Yes, Starscream and his Trine had joined the battle too… on our side." – He looked warmly at the suddenly eager, hopeful youngling and continued. – "It won't be easy at first, but we will manage. I'm not sure whether they'll be defecting or going Neutral, but they definitely can't go back to the Decepticons now."

"Great. It's not enough to have practical jokers and foolhardy frontliners in the ranks, but we absolutely must have snarking Air Commanders and teleporting pranksters too. With them, we will surely beat Megatron." – If Ratchet was snarking then his patients must have been as stable and sound as he could make them on the field.

"With fliers we stand a far greater chance and you know it Ratchet." – Prowl was ever logical, even as he knew it to be useless against the medic's grouching.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Between Wheeljack, the twins and Skywarp now, we won't have a base soon and all the minis will quit."

Blackfoot snickered quietly, his dark mood disappearing as things started to become more hopeful. He knew that, as Prowl warned him, things won't solve themselves miraculously when they get back to Iacon; Starscream would be considered a threat and mistrusted by most mechs for a good while. Even with the top officers knowing his intention and reasons for leaving Megatron, the suspicion and prejudices of the soldiers would not be dispelled easily, and this time it would fall on him too. But the thought of being with his Sire freely and learning to fly from him overwrote every other concern.


End file.
